When Lightning Strikes (31 page)

“Thank you, kind sir, for not hurting us.” They curtsied in unison.

Shaia crouched back down next to him and tossed one of the coins in the air before dropping it down the front of her shirt between her breasts. Leaning forward, she ran her tongue around the outer rim of his ear and hungrily eyed the length of his well-muscled body

“You are a handsome and well-endowed soldier, cherie. Had the circumstances been different, perhaps we could have known great pleasure – the three of us.”

He groaned softly and lightly thumped his head back on the wagon floor.

She smiled and nodded his way before she and Fala exited through the back end of the wagon. They headed to the next one in line, which was the one where Indiri was hidden away. There they could pull this exact same trick if the right moment presented itself and they could convince Indiri to get out of that wagon now and come over to this one to keep an eye on their ‘prisoner of love’.

Perhaps they could be bold next time and do two soldiers at once! Shaia nodded and Fala knew instinctively what she had in mind. They were well versed in this particular game. It had saved their lives on more than one occasion and lined their pockets with gold as well.

In those same moments, Navarre stood before Dominic panting with his exertion then backing off for just moment to catch his breath. They had been fighting hard for the past few minutes and Dominic could see that Navarre was not himself. He was weak and was suffering the effects of blood lost from the wound he had delivered to his arm earlier at the keep. He hated to admit it, but he had not slept in more than a day and he himself needed a few moments to catch his own breath.

Keeping one eye on Navarre he quickly surveyed the area and saw Marco and Salazar taking down two soldiers. Several of his men were engaging Navarre’s soldiers on foot. Through the corner of his eye he also observed one unlucky fool who had dismounted from his horse and entered the wagon where Shaia and Fala were. Within a few minutes they would leave him gagged and begging for mercy – not to mention relieved of any gold or weapons he possessed.

The poor idiot! He almost chuckled. His own immediate danger seemed far distant at the moment as he jovially imagined what the two were doing to the unfortunate chap right about now. His attention was snapped back to the present at the sound of Navarre’s rasp.

“Do not think for a moment that you have bested me, cur. And do not think for yet another moment that I view your leniency in not cutting me down these past seconds as any reason
to spare you. I believe you are just as winded as I – nothing more.”

Dominic regarded him for a moment.

“Think what you will.”

“Where is she, dog? What have you done with Melissande?” Navarre spat out the words as he regained his composure and wiped a drizzle of sweat from his upper lip.

“She is not Melissande. Why do you continue with this charade, Navarre de Lyonne? Or should I say simply Navarre, since you are not of de Lyonne lineage?”

He raised an eyebrow knowing full well his words would enrage him as he continued. “I know of your mama’s little secret. All these years you have called me bastard. How does it feel to be one
yourself?”

Navarre’s face turned crimson but his expression remained steady. He took a deep breath and rushed forward like a madman swinging his sword. His rage seemed to breathe life and strength back into him.

Dominic was taken slightly aback at the power of Navarre’s blow. The bastard seemed to have come back to life. In these moments Dominic was quite certain that his reputation as a skilled swordsman had not come without reason. Navarre was fast as lightning and the sudden power of his blows almost knocked Dominic off his feet.

But Dominic was not about to allow him to succeed. And in fact he reveled in pushing him further with his next words, hoping his rage would be his undoing.

“My wife found the book before she escaped you, you know. Thomas knows the truth by now as well. Sarah had it delivered into his hands.”

Navarre roared in anger as Dominic dodged a swing of the sword that would have sliced his head cleanly from his shoulders and parried another that came before he had a chance to right himself.

“You will die for your words, du Barbaronne. And when I am finished I will take your woman. I will rape her until she is bleeding and begging for a merciful death. Thomas may know of my lineage, but he will still come to my aid. He raised me after all. That is more than you can say.”

Dominic blocked another blow as Navarre rushed him and slammed him hard up against the side of the lead wagon.

Dominic spoke again, panting the words. “He knows of Melissande. He knows what you did to her. Do you honestly believe he will allow you to get away with her murder?” He gritted his teeth hard as he pushed Navarre’s weight back off of him while avoiding being sliced by his blade.

They tumbled forward as Navarre pushed free from Dominic. “It will not matter. He will believe as I tell him because he is a fool. He has always been a fool. It was his undoing with my shrewish mother and it shall be his undoing with me as well.”

The sound of horses in the distance distracted them both for just an instant as another party of riders came into view on the horizon. It was Thomas and his men.

“Well, then. I suppose we shall find out whom Thomas believes and who is dragged off to the dungeon then. Shall we not? And I assure you it will not be me!” Navarre sneered and thrust his sword forward. His face twisted into an evil smile as he felt his blade pierce the flesh of Dominic’s shoulder.

Dominic gasped with the searing pain. He had been taken off guard only for an instant as he turned to look at the riders coming down the long road. Navarre’s blade had gone in quite deep. Thank God it wasn’t his right arm or all would have been lost.

What if Navarre was right and Thomas hadn’t gotten the book and was here to lend aid to him instead of hanging him on the spot? He dragged in a deep breath. He was going to have to take his chances now. If today was the day he would die, at least he was going to God knowing he had taken this evil out of the world on his way out.

He dove at Navarre, but Navarre lunged at him first taking them both down into the dirt. Navarre knocked his sword from his hand on the way down and in an instant held his blade to Dominic’s throat.

Dominic could feel his pulse there beating strong and
hard and he felt a warm trickle of blood where Navarre’s blade had begun slicing into his skin.

“Now cur, how does it feel? How does it feel to go to hell knowing the truth but never being able to utter the words? I will see to it that your whore never gets the chance to tell anyone else either. My secret dies with you.” Navarre spat in his face.

Dominic’s breath came in a great gasp. He wasn’t ready to die. Not like this. Not without seeing Sarah again. She was worth dying for. But more importantly, she was worth
living
for. He would not leave her here alone. He had sworn to her that he would come for her and he meant to keep that promise. That and every other promise he had made to her when he married her in the field. The memory of her sweet face, her touch - everything that she was drove him on now.

He reached forward and with a strength he didn’t know he possessed he grabbed the sharp blade of the sword and pushed it from his neck. His fingers dripped blood as he gripped the blade, but he was oblivious to it now. Navarre’s eyes widened with astonishment and he pushed the blade harder and deeper into Dominic’s hand. Dominic held fast and steady; his iron grip preventing Navarre from moving the blade. He felt as if his soul were separated from his body. He was feeling no pain. No hatred. No anger.
Nothing except the pure intention of what he must do.

In one fluid movement, he jerked the blade free from Navarre’s grip and tossed it aside as he reached into his boot with his free hand and drew forth his dagger. With lightning speed and flawless accuracy, the knife flew from his fingers burying itself deep into Navarre’s forehead. Navarre’s eyes glazed almost instantly as he collapsed on the ground in a heap.

Dominic rose to his knees and tore off a piece of his shirt and quickly bound up his hand which was bleeding profusely and rubbed his throbbing shoulder where blood oozed from the wound there as well. It burned like fire and he could barely move it. He dragged himself shakily to his feet as he turned his attention to the riders coming on the horizon. He must talk some sense into these men before they got here. He looked back down at Navarre’s body. It was over at last. He could scarcely believe it was really so and the victory felt quite shallow to him in these moments. More than anything he wanted to just jump on his horse and go get Sarah. To hold her. To tell her he was alive and all would be well. But he couldn’t do that just yet.

He called out to his men and to Navarre’s soldiers. “Navarre is dead.”

The fighting slowed to a halt as the men stared down at the lifeless form lying there.

Dominic continued. “Navarre de Lyonne was not who you think he was. I have proof that he is not the son of Thomas de Lyonne and further… he murdered Lady Melissande.”

One of the soldiers stepped forward just as Thomas’s soldiers reined their horses in and began to speak.

“It is well known that you fancy yourself noble because your mama claimed you to be Lord Thomas’s bastard. You will be tortured and hanged for this. Navarre de Lyonne may not have been the kindest of men, but that does not justify you taking his life. That right belongs only to the king, his liege lord or God himself.”

Dominic opened his mouth to try to reason with the man but the soldier spoke again before he could utter a sound.

“I grant you that he was not the best of husbands either. He does not go gently with his lady at times, but what makes you think we would believe your word that he killed her in cold blood?”

“
Because I say it is so.
You will address my son with respect.” Thomas’s resonant reply broke the air and the soldier’s mouths dropped open. They looked to their lord in surprise.

Thomas spoke again. “Dominic du Barbaronne speaks the truth. Navarre was not my son. He was the bastard son of one of Marie’s conquests and of those there have been many. That is none of your affair and is another story entirely. The lady we all saw
this past few days was not Melissande. She was an imposter forced into submission through threat of death by Navarre to cover the fact that he did indeed bring about Melissande’s demise. I am quite certain of it.”

The soldiers stared at their lord as if he were mad.
“How milord? How do you know this is true?” one of them asked.

“Oh, it is quite true. Melissande’s maid Margery told me. Margery knows Melissande better than anyone. She raised her from a babe and has been employed within our household for years. She and Reginald are quite trust worthy as you well know. Margery insists the lady we all saw that was spirited away in the night was not Melissande.”

“Who was she then? Must we try her for impersonating a noble?” another of the soldiers asked, stepping forward. The other men were now talking among themselves.

Thomas r
aised his hand to silence them. “No. She was brought to us by Navarre against her will. As for her identity – she is the wife of my son, Dominic. Her name is Sarah. Navarre stole her away from Dominic under threat of death knowing full well the law would protect him and his word as a noble in his insistence that she had lost her memory and was indeed Melissande. Sarah, however, had other ideas and escaped to return to her true husband.”

The men shook their heads in disbelief.

Thomas spoke yet again. “And…as I have said, it has come to my attention that Dominic du Barbaronne is indeed my
firstborn and only
son. And as of this day, this hour and this minute before the Almighty himself and all of you, I fully acknowledge this fact. Marie will get her just rewards for her own actions when she returns from her sister’s estate. I have sent word for her to return immediately.”

He stepped forward and stood there in front of Dominic in silence, wanting to speak, but having a hard time finding the words.

“Dominic. My son…I do not expect your forgiveness. But perhaps, with time…” his words choked off and he reached out to Dominic. “I am so sorry for all of this. For what you have gone through these past days. For all the misfortune I have brought upon you throughout your life and Mara’s.”

He sighed. “I know there are no words that can ever take away your pain.
Or my own.” He shook his head.

Dominic looked hard at the man he had never been able
to call ‘father’. He could not quite bring himself to reach out now after all of this and hold him to his chest. It had after all taken all of this to bring Thomas to the realization of what he had lost and what he had given up.

In some ways he hated the man. And in some ways he longed to reach out to him and to know the feeling of his father’s arms around him. To know what it was like to be loved and acknowledged.

Dominic reached out and simply took Thomas’s hands in his own and said, “Perhaps with time. I am not vengeful by nature – except when driven under extreme circumstance, as what I have endured here with Navarre. I am willing to at least speak with you, Thomas. I suppose there is much you can tell me of my mama that she never did. Of your love and what life’s experiences you were able to have with her. I would at least like to know of these things. She was all I had.”