Angie Arms - Flame Series 03 (5 page)

After she lost count of the drinks she took of the wine
, Garrick bid Christopher return her to her own chambers.  As she crossed over the threshold Christopher closed the door quietly behind her, and she stood looking around her familiar surroundings.  Garrick’s things were added to hers.  His armor lay piled on the chair by the hearth, his sword on top.  She crossed the floor and paused beside it, staring down at it.  It wasn’t covered in blood, but was newly cleaned and polished.  Reaching a shaky hand out, she picked up the heavy sword and pulled it gently from its sheath.  She stared at it, turning it over in her hands.  This sword that drew so much blood was pristine, the edges newly sharpened like a razor.  A knock came on the door and without thinking, she bade the knocker enter.  Servants flowed in, baring a tub and steaming buckets of water.  It didn’t take long for the tub to be filled and they all left, save for one.  The woman was tall and willowy, quite beautiful, at least at one time.  Her hair was so blond it was nearly white, attesting to the fairness of her skin before it was blistered by the sun.

“Lord Fenton bade me assist you.”

“I have my own maid.  If you would let my guard know, he will have her sent for.”

A horrified look crossed her face
, followed by stark fear.  “But The Bastard has told me.  He will punish me if I do not.”

Ryann stared at this woman quaking in fear and she began to shake.  “What has he done to you?”

“I come from Marlet.  He and his men,” she suddenly grew quiet and even paler.  She shook her head, as if to get rid of the nightmares.  “His man Marcus keeps a witch, and the Bastard commands an army of monsters.”

“He is to be my husband.”

“May he show mercy to you then miss,” she said, with all sincerity.  Then she smiled, finding optimism to offer, “It will be okay.  We can bear it, whatever comes, we will be able to bare it.  Come, your water is getting cold.  I should not tell you these things.  The Bastard may not like me telling you these things.”

“Don’t worry,” Ryann said
, putting a reassuring hand on her arm.  “I won’t let him know.”  She unfastened the kirtle at her waist and added, “What is your name?”

“Una, my lady,” she said
, offering a curtsy.

“Please do not call him that again.”

It took but a moment for her to figure out it was “The Bastard,” to which she referred.  “Yes my lady,”

Once settled in the tub
, her hair washed and trailing in the water, she lay back, letting the kinks of the last few days flow out of her.  “Tell me more of this witch.”  She did not believe in witches, but any conversation was better than leaving her to her own imaginings.

“She was a real beauty, that one.  Taller than me, hair as black as a raven’s wing.  They say she was an emir’s witch and the Bas… Lord Fenton
, stole her away and gave her to Marcus when he tired of her.”

“Where is she now?”

“Still with Marcus.”

What kind of life was she facing she wondered
, as she considered the men she was now surrounded by.  The door slamming into the wall of her chamber made her jump, and a short shriek escaped the servant, before she abruptly cut it off and shrank away from the intruder.

Long powerful strides carried Garrick toward the hearth
, where she huddled in the tub.  His eyes never strayed toward her, for she would feel them, but kept them on his armor, his face etched in granite.  He picked up his sword, and studied it before propping it in the floor against the chair leg, before his eyes fell on her.  He knew she moved it.  He stared at her for the longest moment, hiding behind the edge of the tub.  His eyes left her and went to the girl, “Leave us,” he commanded, and all Ryann heard was the rush of feet as the woman fled.

Garrick advanced to stand over her, his eyes glued to hers.  Then he turned his head toward the door, his face still unreadable
, but she heard the threat behind the order he gave to Christopher to shut the door.  Her eyes refused to leave Garrick, she heard her guard enter the room slowly, pause as he took the door in hand, pausing again before he moved to close it.  The sound of the door closing was like a final death toll.  Garrick didn’t move for the longest moment and all that could be heard in the chamber was their breathing.  Then he turned and his eyes were on her, and lingered only on her face for the briefest of moments before travelling down her body, as she curled her knees up to her breasts.

She began to speak
, but he stopped her with a soft “shhh,” whispering past his lips.  He knelt before her, his face only inches from hers.  His hand rested on the edge of the tub, inches from her breast she concealed beneath her own hand.  It seemed as if his presence made the warmth leave the water, and she forced herself not to shiver.  His eyes were so cold, so blank and her mind screamed at him to show her a soul, to show her some kind of life, so she would know he was human, and not some kind of deadly messenger.

“I must go.”

She stared at him, his closeness made it hard to breath, made it hard to do anything but feel his power.  “Why?” she managed to ask him, through a throat that was suddenly dry.

“Stroud has attacked Lenox.  I have to go take back what is mine.”  She swallowed against the shock that she feared for this man that would be her husband.  Was this the last time she would look into the bottomless pits?  Was there more to this m
an than the demon people saw?  With the joy that he would not return, came the fear he would die. Garrick did not hurt her, handled her roughly, but did not hurt her.  If he was the evil man everyone thought him to be, there would be death wherever he went.  None of her people were hurt, and the only reason they were not was because he would not allow it. 

“How long will you be gone?”

He shrugged and reached his hand out to stroke her wet hair, his eyes following his hand.  “A fortnight or more.  I am leaving some of my men, they will not harm you as long as you remember you are mine,” his voice grew quietly menacing, and she felt the coldness race up her spine.  “You no longer run these lands but Arealee.”

“But he’s my own man.”

“Yes, and quite competent at his job too.  But he answers to me, not to you.  I would hate for you to put him into a position that might be seen as betrayal.”  His eyes were back on her and she could only nod.  To betray a lord, especially this one, was death.

His eyes went back to the hand that stroked her hair.  Suddenly he caught a handful of it, forcing her head back slightly making her gasp.  His eyes came back to her face
, and he stared at her for several heartbeats of time.  Then his mouth came down on hers, demanding she give up her defenses.  His tongue flicked at her closed lips once, when she did not surrender, a tightening of his hand brought another gasp, parting her lips, and his tongue invaded, claiming her, toying with her tongue.  Then it retreated and he suckled gently on her lower lip, before invading more cautiously this time, teasing her, before a sigh escaped her and she advanced with it.  It was immediately seized as he sucked it into his own mouth, a groan escaped her, forced from her core as her body became suddenly hot, and her mind not her own.  His lips left her and his eyes went to the hand that was still gripping her hair.  Relaxing his fist, he slipped his hand out of her hair, sparing a moment to stroke her wet locks before standing.  Moving away, he gave her his back and went to his armor.

“Get out and cover yourself.  I require your assistance.”  The blood rushed from her body and she shakily rose to her feet.  She reached
from one of the cloths laid out for her, pulling it around herself, she stepped out.  He spared a glance at her, his eyes lingering for a moment, then turned back to his armor.

“What do you need me to do?” she asked
, moving to him, feeling quite vulnerable next to him.  He directed her in the donning of his armor, and when he turned to her, his helm in his arm, she drew in a shaky breath.  It might be possible to forget who this man was, if she didn’t ponder too much on the darkness within him.  But standing before her, his armor making him immortal, his face dark with stubble adding to the menacing figure before her, she shivered. 

He saw
, and in a flash his hand snaked out, grabbing her roughly by the chin held her face, as he brought his down to hers.  “If you are not here when I return, you will regret it Countess.  Do you understand me?”

She nodded as much as his grip allowed
.  “Christopher and the rest of your guard are going with me.  I’m leaving men to protect you.”

“You’re leaving your men?” she asked
, and she heard the fear in her own voice.

“Yes,” he replied
.  “They listen to my orders, and my orders are to hold this keep and guarantee the safety of all that reside here.  They will do nothing else as long as you stay put.  Do not provoke them.”  He gripped a little harder, making her eyes lock with his so close.  “Do you understand what I’m telling you?  If all remains as I leave it, all will be well.  Do not give my men any decisions to make.  Do not provoke them.”

Again she nodded
, and he released her. He dismissed her and swept from the room.  Just as quickly as he came into her life, he was gone. 

He left Marcus in charge
, and like Garrick, he ruled with an iron fist.  Punishments for the men were harsh and swift.  He was lenient with her people, so she accepted what she had to. 

She saw to the welfare of the people and her daily presence among them within and without the walls of the keep
, reassured them, and gave them reason to continue with their lives.  Daley became her shadow, and she knew he feared for her among Garrick’s men.  Ryann missed Christopher, and the presence of the men Garrick left behind made her nervous, but she could almost forget what they all waited on.  Each day they waited on Garrick to return, a part of an army suspended, a bride to be on hold.

Chapter 3

They came out of nowhere, dozens of them.  They swarmed around Ryann, her five guards and Daley.  Daley moved toward her, but he was pulled from his saddle before making it.  One of their attackers grabbed her horse’s bridle, then dragged her from the saddle.  She hit the ground hard, tried rolling to her feet, but the man was on top of her, grabbing her by the hair and dragging her up.  She struggled with him, not a very valiant effort considering she was held at arm’s length. 

“Hold,” an authoritative voice called
, and all around her fell quiet.  She stopped her struggles, saw that all her guards lay dead, and her knees went weak.  One of the men stood before Daley who held a dagger futilely before him, a sword ready to be driven into the young man’s chest. 

“Countess Ryann
, so nice of you to join us,” the man commanding them said, before directing his attention to the boy.

“What fascinating eyes
you have,” the man said, admiration clear.  “Take them both.”

Daley put up a fight, inciting Ryann too as well
, but both were short lived.  She watched the boy trussed up as pain shot through her head, and darkness blanketed her.

When she became aware of her surroundings it was as she was being pulled from the back of a horse none to gently.  A hood was pulled over her head
, but she was able to hear Daley threatening the men who dragged him up the steps ahead of her.  The place they were taken into felt darkly menacing.  She was carried between two men, one at her feet and one at her shoulders.  Once inside the structure she was dropped unceremoniously onto the stone floor. 

“Easy with her,” Daley said
, and she could hear that he struggled with the men.

Ryann sat up
, but a big hand came out and clamped on her shoulder, making her remain seated on the floor.  Once she settled back down, the hood was yanked from her head.  They were in a giant hall, the cobwebs and crumbling walls was testimony this place was abandoned long ago. The man giving the orders had his attention riveted to Daley.  He was a tall man, but rather small, and she was startled to realize it was only because she compared him to Garrick.  He was actually quite a handsome man, but the way he watched the boy made her uneasy.

“Who are you?” she asked.

The man walked to stand in front of Daley, who immediately quieted his struggles.  “I am Lord Daniel Stroud.  You are Countess of Kilkenny, and that leaves this young man here.  What is your name?”

“Daley,” came the quiet response.

“Who is this beautiful young man?” he asked, finally turning away from him and walking a couple of steps toward Ryann.

“He is my stable boy,” she responded
, but she was sure Daley was in dreadful danger.

He gave a quick glance back at Daley and nodded.  “You care for your peasants well.”

He turned back around and went back to Daley, his hand reached out toward his face, and the boy pulled away.  His punishment was swift as Stroud backhanded him.  He staggered and was caught by one of the men behind him.   The man reached out again and cupped his cheek, as he stood there dazed, his thumb caressing just under his eye.

“What d
o you want?” Ryann asked.  It all happened so quickly, she forced herself to remain calm.  Panic had no place here.

   Stroud turned back to Ryann, dropping his hand away.  “I want that bastard Garrick to pay for all he has done.”

“You think taking me will do that?”

He chuckled, “I’m not taking you.  As a matter of fact I’m leaving you here.”  He turned back to Daley, “but I’m taking him with me.”  He motioned to the two men to do just that.   Daley tried to bolt
, then thrashed and kicked to no avail.

“Take her too if you must.  Don’t separate us,” Daley pleaded.

  Stroud walked to where his men stopped, and the boy became docile as he looked up.  “I’ll do whatever you want if you let me stay with her.”

“My dear boy, you’ll do whatever I want anyway.”
  The response was cold, the assured tone sent a tremor skittering up her spine.

It was a convulsing
, screaming Daley who was dragged from the hall.

Stroud walked back to Ryann
, but his eyes fell beyond her shoulder, to the man behind her.  “You and your men have one hour to catch up before dark.”

The chuckle that came from behind her made her grow cold inside, and then Stroud was gone.  She sat silently for a mom
ent, trying to weigh her options, but she couldn’t get beyond the first step, which was to come up with even one.

She counted five men total, and no one was near the entry that led from the hall and deeper into the ca
vernous hole.  The hole was unwelcoming in its darkness, but here she hoped for a chance to hide.  She sprang away in a full run, before the men could gather themselves.  The darkness engulfed her as she crossed the threshold.

~ ~ ~ ~

Garrick hoped the speed they reached Lenox would be a surprise to Stroud, the only possible advantage he saw for them.  Even with hard riding
, it took four days to reach the keep, men and horses were exhausted as they rode into the courtyard.  The fact the gates weren’t closed tightly against him told him immediately, Stroud was not there. 

“Lord Fenton, is all well?” Liam
, his commander at Lenox, asked as he rushed from inside the keep. 

“I was told Stroud took
siege upon Lenox.”

“No my lord, all is well here.”

Garrick turned, wishing he had Marcus at his side, but instead it was Christopher.

“What is it?” the guard snapped at Garrick’s scowl.

“I think there is trouble at Kilkenny,” Garrick said, as dread set in.

“There wouldn’t be if I had been allowed to stay there,” Christopher ground out
, as he jerked his horse around. 

“Stop, you will not get far on that exhausted beast,” Garrick commanded.  “See that we get two of
the fastest horses here.”  Then he turned to Christopher, “We’ll leave as soon as we get a meal and some provisions.”

Christopher saw the sense in what Garrick said
, and wearily climbed from his horse’s back.  The poor animal was exhausted.  Sweat had been building on her for two days, her head hung tiredly, and she looked ready to drop.  Stable boys came out and began taking horses, while Garrick directed Christopher inside.

He sat the guard next to him on the dais as they awaited their hurriedly prepared meal.  It didn’t take
long before Chloe came to him.  She was the sexiest woman Garrick ever laid eyes on, until he met Alena.  She was tall, tall enough even to look him in the eye.  She had vibrant red hair that glowed with good health, round soft brown eyes that were always smoldering.  Her body was perfectly shaped with flaring hips and nicely rounded breasts.  Her legs were long and nicely shaped, he could feel them even now wrapped around him with her ankles locked behind his back.

She slid between him and the table, her breasts pressed against him.  “How was your trip?” she asked.   Her voice was low and seductive, almost like a cat’s purr.

“It went well.  Met my future wife,” he said, watching her.  She was cunning, that was apparent, and she didn’t like one bit that he would soon be married.

“But she is not here with you so that means you need a woman,” she said
, sliding into his lap, her hands going to the skin at his neck, to stroke it gently.

Garrick grabbed her by the wrist and pinned it at her side.  Instead of shoving her off
, which was his first impulse, he pressed her tighter into his lap.  She feared him, like everyone, but she was smart, and knew once the Bastard’s men deflowered her, she lost a number of chances in life.  So she made the best of it and used her body to get what she wanted, from any man who had anything to offer.  Garrick paid her well for her services, it kept her coming to his bed, even after she saw the scars and the darkness that lay within, but he did not trust her.  Garrick was no fool, and to outright spurn a beautiful woman, was as smart as driving a sword into ones foot. 

“I need a woman more than ever
, but I leave again as soon as I eat this meal that is coming now.”  He shot her a look she easily interpreted, and she left quietly. 

The trip that took
four days took a little over two on the return trip.  Horses and riders were exhausted as they rode into the courtyard of Kilkenny.  Marcus met him on the steps.

“She was taken,” he said
, as Garrick and Christopher made the first step.

“By whom?” Garrick demanded, but he knew there was only one man who would dare.

“I don’t know, her guard was killed, but we found no trace of her or Daley.”

“No
trail or anything?” Christopher asked, the anger and concern for the Countess exploding from him as he glared at the man who was left to protect her.

“Nothing,” Marcus
said, tolerating the anger for the concern it was.

“How long has she been gone?” Garrick asked
, his unease from the past two days increased tenfold as he watched the concern build like a cloud on her guard’s face. 

“Four days,” Marcus said.  “I wonder if the Countess has talked Daley into helping her get away?”

“Never say such a thing again,” Christopher said turning, with a great deal of vehemence as he advanced on Marcus.  “She is honor bound to wed Lord Fenton and she will not bring dishonor to herself or her people.”

“A veritable saint,” Garrick replied sarcastically. 

“I hope you know her well enough before you wed to know she could never kill those men.  Someone else has done this and taken the Countess.  The only reason you haven’t found tracks is you haven’t looked in the right place.”  Christopher then turned on Garrick, “They didn’t look in the right place because they don’t know this land, which is why I should have been left here.”

“If you want to live to see her again you best see to our horses,” Garrick threatened.  Christopher shot a scathing look to his lord, then to Marcus
, before walking away.

“I’m sorry I let this happen,” Marcus said with a great deal of sorrow on his face.

“Just rally the men and hope Christopher knows what he’s talking about.”

~ ~ ~ ~

Awareness began to return to Ryann slowly.  She was leaning against something cold, she could feel the hard smoothness against her cheek.  She tried to raise her head
, but the pain slammed into her, making the edges of her consciousness crash back in, as the darkness engulfed her again.

Sometime later she was aware of the coldness against her cheek.  She didn’t try to move
, but leaned against it, trying to get a sense of where she was.  She felt the shackles around her wrists, binding them together, and she knew ultimately to the wall of the dungeon.  She could smell the stench of it.  Darkness surrounded her, and she felt close to panic. 

She had to stay calm
, she chastised herself.  She was having a hard time remembering the events that brought her here.  The harder she tried to remember, the worse her head hurt.  Daley, he took the boy for nefarious reasons.  Then reality dawned on her and she remembered how she came to be shackled to the wall.  The men, how they hurt her, violated her and shown her no mercy.  She vomited as the world spun out of control.  It could have been hours or days ago.  Her body ached to the core, she didn’t want to move, didn’t want to feel the agony, so she closed her eyes and let the darkness take her.

~ ~ ~ ~

He could feel Christopher watch
ing him.  Garrick knew the other man blamed him for taking him away and leaving Ryann without his protection.  Now she was with Stroud, he had no doubt her disappearance after his mad dash for Lenox wasn’t coincidental, and Garrick was worried.  Stroud would do anything to get in the way of Garrick’s plans.  That might mean the Countess’s death, though he didn’t think so or they would have done it on the road alongside his men.  No, Stroud had a plan for her, and it scared him because it did not bode well for Ryann.  Fear didn’t sit well with Garrick, until he rode back into Lenox and found the reason for their flight had been a ruse, he may have never felt such an emotion. 

“Why wouldn’t he take her to his keep?” he sna
pped at Christopher, who argued against Garrick’s proposal they would find her there.

“I don’t know,” Christopher replied irritably.  One look at Garrick’s face
brought an explanation from him.  “Marcus said there were no tracks.  There is one section of road that is always wet.  If there were no tracks there, they did not go that way.  They took a different route.  If Marcus found no tracks there, they did not go north .”

“So that leaves the village,” Garrick replied.
Riding, attacking, and killing, that was what he did, what he was good at.  He was not good at waiting, planning, hoping.

“No one in the village saw any strange riders that morning.”  Garrick studied this man who had such a fondness for the Countess he was willing to die for her.  What kind of man would die for a woman?   A woman he had no attachments to
, other than his duty.  His eyes narrowed, did Christopher fancy himself in love with Ryann.  Was that why he was so intent on keeping her near him?  He was a handsome man, he certainly didn’t have the scars.  The bigger question was did Ryann love him?  Which led him to the question could she ever love a man like himself?  Would that ever matter to him, because he was sure he was far beyond the capacity to love, if such a thing did exist?