Forbidden Legacy (16 page)

Her eyes grew wary.

He slipped his hand around her waist. An easy pull brought her against him.

She stiffened. “What are you doing?”

“I wanted to hold you.”

Panic flickered in her eyes. “ 'Tis unseemly.”

The absurdity of her statement made him chuckle, at odds with the pain tainting his every breath. “Lass, we are wed. You have remained in the same chamber with me on many a night.”

Red swept her cheeks. “That is nae a good reason.”

“Because I need you,” he whispered, shaken to find his words true.

The wariness on her face melted to hesitation.

Needing to touch her, he lifted her chin, their mouths but a breath apart.

Her lower lip trembled. “Why are you doing this?”

The desperation in her voice shattered the hold on his will. “Because I, you, need this.” Stephan brushed his mouth against hers, her soft moan sliding through him, igniting a desire so fierce it smothered his anger of moments before, until all he could do was sink into the kiss, into all that she made him feel.

Her mouth worked hesitantly against his. Slowly, her body relaxed, and after a long moment she was kissing him back.

Of every dream in his life, none had surrounded him with such fulfillment. He shuddered against the potency of his desire, the heat of her body against his, and how Katherine fit so perfectly within his arms.

As her tongue met his, awareness tangled inside until his every touch, his every taste was filled with her. He ignored his aches, drew her with him to his bed, caressed her face as he pressed a kiss against each lid, the curve of her jaw, doubting he'd ever tire of touching her.

“Stephan,” she breathed.

On a groan he claimed her mouth, took the kiss deeper.

Katherine shifted beneath him, her body pressed against his, and he felt each curve, the way each fit intimately against the other. He skimmed his mouth along the silky skin of her throat.

“Stephan—”

“I want you,” he rasped, moving lower while his hands began loosening the bindings of her gown. “And when I—”

“Nay!” Eyes raw with torment, she shoved him away.

Stunned, he stepped toward her, and the room spun. Furious at his weakness, he halted. “What is wrong?”

She shook her head. “I am sorry. God help me, more than you will ever know. You are a good man, one any woman would want in her . . .” Her eyes filled with regret, Katherine stepped back. “I canna ever be the wife you wish.”

Shaken by the depth at which he wanted her, fighting back the desire, he stepped forward. “We have time.”

She remained silent.

Bedamned. As if he didna have his own secrets? “Katherine, there is much each of us needs to learn about the other. Things I need to tell you but canna.”

Her eyes softened with understanding. “I know.”

He stilled. “Know?”

“When you were asleep, you spoke of your being a Knight Templar.”

H
is pulse racing, Stephan held Katherine's gaze and fought to quell the mounting panic. God's blade, he'd exposed the Brotherhood!

Worried eyes watched him. “Stephan, what is wrong?”

Wrong? A pathetic word for his unforgivable transgression. He'd given his vow to the Grand Master, was responsible for keeping the fact that the Templars had fled France a secret, for protecting treasures for which many a king would kill.

“Stephan, talk to me.”

“I believe you are mistaken,” he said with as much calm as he could muster.

“Thomas admitted 'twas true.”

Bedamned! Why had his friend confirmed anything? He should have owed his ramblings to the herbs he'd given him, to loss of blood. Still, his wife had proven herself to be a woman he could trust. Confident he could salvage the precarious situation, he nodded. “How much did Thomas tell you?”

“Enough to make sense of what you were saying in your sleep.”

“Such as?”

“He explained King Philip's false charges, the Grand Master dissolving the Knights Templar, and how you and the others boarded your galleys in the port of La Rochelle and fled.”

Bedamned! He struggled to decide how to best proceed. Disclosures in the wrong hands could destroy all that was holy.

“And,” Katherine said, interrupting his thoughts, “discovering you and your men were Knights Templar answered many questions that had perplexed me from the first.”

God's blade. With her intelligence, he should have anticipated his wife would notice variances in the lifestyle of him and his men from other knights.

“'Tis sickening that King Philip abuses his power to where nae even the church dares to intervene against false charges.” Her hands fisted at her sides. “Damn him to Hades! His treachery willna go unpunished. In the end, he must answer to God.”

“King Philip will,” Stephan rasped, sickened that valiant men, warriors of God and ignorant of the French king's foul intent, would pay for a king's greed. He banked his fury. However upset, he needed to ensure that her enlightenment of his and his men's presence in Scotland remained a secret.

That Thomas had acknowledged their being Templars assured Stephan she'd earned his friend's trust. A feat accomplished by few. Given the sensitivity of their mission, neither would Robert Bruce have selected her to be Stephan's wife if he'd held any doubts of her character.

“What Thomas divulged,” Stephan explained, his voice grave, “is information that in the wrong hands could lead to the death of many men.”

“Never would I breathe a word of this,” Katherine stated. “On my honor, I swear it.”

The sincerity of her claim eased any doubts.

“The vows you swore upon becoming a Templar explain why even after the Grand Master's dissolution you dinna wish to marry.”

“It wasna you,” he whispered, “never you.”

A sad smile touched her mouth. “I know that now, but the reason changes naught between us.”

Confused, he stepped toward her.

“Dinna come closer.” Her voice wavered.

“Katherine—”

“That I know the truth is enough.” She moistened her lower lip. “Neither will I question you further about the Templars. I am unsure of the reasons why my godfather found it necessary for us to wed. Your being forced into such an agreement was wrong.”

He should be thankful she was pushing him away. Wasna this what he'd wanted? She'd earned his trust. Now she knew his secrets. 'Twould make their life ahead simpler.

Once Avalon was seized, she would remain while he sailed off to support their king. Naught would change except that with a wife in name only, he could remain free from worry about the complications of intimacy.

The words in his throat shattered against the lie they'd become. “Mayhap the start of our marriage wasna what either you or I would have wished, but having come to know you, I canna find regret in Robert Bruce's decision.”

Katherine's eyes darkened with a blend of emotions he couldna fathom. “Nor I.”

Her admission scraped through his mind, unlocked yearnings he'd fought to suppress. Needing to touch her, to hold her, Stephan ignored the pain and stepped closer.

“Dinna,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “However much I want you, I canna be the wife you need.” Regret darkening her eyes, she turned and fled.

* * *

Shrouded in moonlight, Stephan climbed the rocky bank toward the entry to the secret tunnel. “After a sennight and unable to find us, the English will believe we have long since fled.”

The quiet tap of rocks echoed below his boots as Thomas stepped up behind him. “Aye. Though Katherine is far from pleased to be left onboard.”

An understatement. She was furious. Neither was her anger the biggest complication between them. After her shocking revelation that she knew he and his men were Templars, he'd overridden common sense and admitted he was satisfied with their marriage. Ever since, she'd avoided him. When forced to meet his gaze or talk to him, she ensured that their time together was minimal.

Stephan stepped around the next rock. A fitting punishment for ignoring his training and allowing his emotions to rule his decisions.

Still, he couldna understand the rationale behind her stating that she couldna be the wife he needed. With his sworn vows as a Knight Templar, since their marriage he'd left her untouched. Except for the kisses.

Neither had he forced her. Despite her claim, for a moment passion had flared between them, a merging of desires, needs, that had spilled out beneath the moonlight and left him aching for more.

He rubbed his brow. God's blade, 'twas a mess, one, with his losing sight of his mission, he deserved. The lass was wise to keep her distance. At least one of them had blasted sense.

“With you ordering Lady Katherine to remain onboard, she willna be giving you a smile anytime soon,” Thomas said, drawing him from his thoughts.

Stephan shrugged, climbed higher. “She is safe; 'tis what is important.” And what he needed to remember. “Now that we are aware of the secret tunnel's location and how to enter, her presence is unnecessary. As well, her knowing we are Knights Templar allows us to speak freely. Never had I planned to tell her. Nor would I have if nae for the potion you mixed.”

“You needed to sleep,” Thomas said. “And I hold nay regrets. The lass is trustworthy.”

“She is. Given his insistence on our marriage,” Stephan said, “a belief our king shared.”

Gaze shrewd, his friend studied him. “I know that look; something is troubling you.”

“Aye; your prying into what isna your affair.”

“ 'Tis, when the reason concerns you, my friend. I . . .” Disbelief, then humor touched his friend's face. “'Tis the lass who has you floundering. You like her.”

“She is my bloody wife. 'Twould be ill advised if I didna.”

A smile curved his lips. “If asked, I would be saying that you
more
than like her.”

“I didna ask.”

“You didna,” Thomas said, his voice ripe with pleasure, “but against your every wish, 'tis obvious. A fact that pleases me.” The tinge of humor faded as he glanced at the tunnel entry. “As for your plan for our attack, I agree. A fire in the stables will serve as a solid deception until everyone moves into place.”

“Indeed,” Stephan agreed, refocusing on their mission, where his mind should have remained. “This time we will seize Avalon.” He opened the passage, led his men inside.

A while later, shouts echoed from the bailey as the Englishmen passed buckets of water to throw on the blaze.

Pressed into the shadows, Stephan nodded to Cailin.

The Templar angled a polished wedge against the sun. Glints of light reflected toward the church where more knights awaited the signal.

The bells began to ring.

As expected, Englishmen broke away from trying to smother the flames, withdrew their blades, and charged toward the chapel.

“Now!” Stephan shouted.

One of his men sounded the horn.

Yelling as they ran, Stephan joined his warriors as they flooded the castle from several strategic directions.

The knights slowed, stumbled back, whirled to face the charging force.

Stephan's archers quickly dropped the leading line of the Englishmen.

Realizing they were trapped, several men began to retreat but were quickly overwhelmed and surrendered.

The soft moans of the dying echoed through the bailey as Stephan scanned the stronghold. Though weather-beaten, the turrets, along with the remainder of the castle, stood solid. Avalon would provide a secure stronghold for the future.

His men, a few bearing minor injuries, separated the few prisoners for which they would demand a ransom.

Stephan sheathed his weapon, glanced at Thomas at his side. “Put all of the captives in the dungeon. On the morrow, I will send a ransom demand to Edward of Caernarfon.”

Thomas gave him a rueful smile. “The young king willna be pleased. He struggles with his nobility as he fights to claim a country that was his father's desire to rule, nae his.”

“The English king's struggles are his to fight. What matters is the gold he will pay, which will aid King Robert in his fight to reclaim Scotland.”

Thomas nodded.

“As for the Earl of Preswick,” Stephan said to a knight nearby, “have him brought to me.”

“Aye.” His man hurried off.

Moments later, a curse rang out, then a scuffle.

“ 'Twould seem,” Stephan said with disgust, “they have found the earl.”

Struggling to break free, the lanky lord fought the Templar's hold as he half-dragged him forward. “ 'Tis outrageous. Release me!”

Several paces away, the knight stopped and hauled the man to his feet.

His face red, he glared at Stephan. “Have you any idea who I am?!”

“Aye,” Stephan replied, “a pathetic choice to select to keep this stronghold safe.”

Outrage darkened his face. “I am—”

“The Earl of Preswick,” Stephan cut in, “the English lord who seized Avalon as well as kept the previous earl's daughter alive in hopes to wed.”

“ 'Twas by royal decree,” he blustered.

“And did your king order you to force the lass to watch as you murdered her family?” Stephan seethed, “or was that for your own twisted pleasure?”

The man's face paled. “I—”

Fury pouring through him, Stephan caught the noble's throat, squeezed it. “You are the basest form of life. Nae fit to breathe.”

The noble gasped, struggled to break free.

“I should slice open your gullet and spill your worthless blood into the earth. But 'twould do naught but stain it, for I doubt even the maggots would want you.” He shoved the man to Cailin. “Throw this murderous bastard into the dungeon.”

“You cannot!” the earl roared. “ 'Tis an act of war!”

Stephan clasped his dagger, trembling with the urge to slay the bastard. “Your attack and seizure of Avalon initiated that.” He nodded to his knights. “Take him away.”

Spewing oaths and threats as the guards hauled him across the bailey, the earl met Stephan's gaze. “You will regret this. I will be back to slay your arse, and your men, and rape any women left behind.”

The calm in Stephan's mind snapped. “Halt!” Aye, he should ignore the noble, focus on the ransom, but his threat toward Katherine severed any thought of mercy.

With cold precision, Stephan strode to a slain Englishman sprawled nearby. He jerked the knight's bloodied sword from his hand, nodded to his guards. “Release the earl.”

Cailin shoved Preswick forward.

The noble stumbled, recovered. Wary, he eyed the surrounding men.

“Here.” Hilt first, Stephan tossed him the weapon.

The earl caught the sword, scowling at the knights making a wide circle around them before leveling his gaze on Stephan. “Am I handed a sword so you can kill me and claim you were defending yourself?”

Stephan grunted. “The fight will be fair. Unlike you, I meet my opponent face to face, nae like a coward hiding in the shadow of a king.”

The earl's mouth thinned. “At least I fight for a king who ascended to his rightful place on the throne, nae a noble who changed his fealty with each battle, and slayed Red Comyn, the rightful claimant to the Scottish throne.”

“Strategy is the sign of an effective leader.” Banking his fury, the need to end the worthless bastard's life, Stephan emptied his mind of emotion, lifted his blade. “Nae like the king you serve, whose preference is carpentry or digging a ditch.”

“Damn you!” Preswick lunged.

Pain screamed through Stephan as he swung. Honed steel scraped.

Confidence gleamed in the Englishman's gaze. “You were a fool to give me a weapon, a fact you will soon learn.” He lowered his blade, thrust it forward.

Stephan stumbled back.

The earl drove forward.

Stephan sidestepped, angled his sword, and blocked the Englishman's blow. Stephan's arm trembled as he held the earl back.

A cold smile touched Preswick's face. “There is blood on your shoulder, Scot. You are weak, wounded, and a fool to believe you could ever defeat me.”

The pad of footsteps echoed nearby.

Katherine stepped into view and paused alongside Thomas, her eyes wide with shock.

The earl's gaze cut to her. “Lady Katherine,” he said with contempt. “You came to speak your vows and seal our marriage. A ceremony we will complete once I have dealt with this pathetic excuse for a knight.” He focused on Stephan, jerked his sword up.