Luc swore with enthusiasm. He struggled to get into his chausses and boots, but every article of clothing seemed to fight his intent. His mind was yet fogged with sleep; his chemise was completely unhelpful.
And his wife was gone.
Luc fought to get the satchel around his neck and sling his tabard over all. Knowing that to leave anything in the chamber was to invite theft, he cast his cloak over his shoulders, grabbed up the remaining saddlebags, scanned the chamber, and set after his infuriated lady.
Not that he could blame Brianna for her response. Her guess was all wrong but Luc had not aided matters in the least.
Luc cursed himself up, down, and sideways as he slammed the door in his turn and stormed down the stairs. The lady had granted him a chance to pledge his love and he, he had been too much of a fool to give his feelings voice.
He had been so startled by Brianna’s own confession of love that it had taken a trio of heartbeats to realize he loved her in turn.
But by then, the lady had been gone.
Luc kicked open the door to the street. If anything happened to Brianna, Luc would never forgive himself. ’Twas no consolation that the lady had a talent for casting caution to the winds and oft at her own expense.
Luc scanned the silent street to the left, the empty yard to the right. There was no sign of an enraged princess or even any echo of her passing.
But Brianna was a woman of good sense. She would head home to Tullymullagh, Luc was certain, and for that journey, she would need a steed. Luc strode for the stables in poor temper, never guessing what he would find when he flung open the door.
Ruarke de Rossiers stood behind Raphael, his hand clamped over Brianna’s mouth and a wicked blade held to her throat. Her satchel had fallen at her feet.
Luc froze and stared. The lady’s eyes were wide with terror but she appeared unhurt.
At least, as yet.
It seemed they had not fled the threat lurking at Tullymullagh, after all. And Luc had only himself to blame.
Ruarke smiled. “At last,” he purred. “I had feared you might not deign to join us, Lord of Tullymullagh.”
Luc stepped into the stables with a confidence he was far from feeling. He cast his saddlebags aside to have his hands free, should any opportunity to aid Brianna arise. When the door swung closed, there was naught but the glow of the dawn filtering through the boards to illuminate the space.
“You followed us,” Luc charged.
“Aye, but I could not be certain where you slumbered. At least,” Ruarke gave Brianna a shake and she glared at him, “not until this morn.”
“What do you want?” Luc asked silkily. He took a step forward, but Ruarke retreated, the knife moving too enthusiastically against Brianna’s throat for Luc’s taste.
He halted and waited, hoping Brianna did naught to provoke her captor.
“I want the Rose of Tullymullagh,” Ruarke declared boldly. “It should be mine. Connor had chosen me as his heir.”
“Brianna made her own choice of spouse,” Luc said softly, deliberately misunderstanding the other knight. “And our match is duly made.”
Ruarke snorted. “I care naught for the woman!” He dug the blade into the soft flesh of Brianna’s throat and could not completely muffle Brianna’s cry of pain. Luc dove forward, but Ruarke shook his head and drew the princess to her very toes. Luc could see that Brianna was trembling with fear.
He had to aid her!
“Make no mistake,” Ruarke purred. “She is a pretty enough prize, but the Rose is a finer one. And markedly less trouble. Give it to me, Luc, give to me my due and your bride may live.”
“The Rose of Tullymullagh is naught but a legend,” Luc argued, keeping his voice deliberately low and persuasive. “ ’Tis long gone.” He did not have the gem Ruarke claimed, yet somehow he had to see Brianna safe.
It seemed that Luc had few decent options.
“A lie!” Ruarke declared. “I know the Rose of Tullymullagh exists, just as I know it should be mine!”
“How can you be so certain?” Luc deliberately kept Ruarke talking in the hope that some path would become clear.
“I heard tell of it before Connor sent me abroad and then found an old compatriot who told me of it truly. He swore the old man would not be parted from the gem and that it must be hidden in the solar’s private chapel itself.”
Luc sauntered closer as he dared to speculate. “It must have been you I overheard in the stables.”
“Ah!” Ruarke’s eyes flashed. “You! You were the one who troubled this cursedly skittish beast?” Ruarke did not try to hide his scorn. “ ’Tis no marvel that misfits like you and he should find each other.” Raphael snorted and stamped, no less pleased to find this knight so close behind him again.
“But how could you have even been in the stables that night?” Luc asked calmly, determined to have all finally answered. “ ’Twas days before you arrived again at Tullymullagh.”
Ruarke laughed harshly. “I was there that night and several times before. Surely you do not imagine that I would sully myself with a deed as barbarous as warfare? I have my own good looks to assure, my steed’s health to care for, my new caparisons to preserve.”
He chuckled. “Nay, ’twas perfect when Connor sent me for aid, for I had the ideal excuse to remain abroad. In fact, I believe I may have given him the idea.” Ruarke’s eyes shone. “Yet I lingered nearby once I knew the prize I coveted was yet within those walls.”
Brianna took a deep breath, her eyes flashing with indignation. ’Twas clear she thought little of the performance of Tullymullagh’s pledged champion and Luc well recalled that there were many who had died in Gavin’s assault.
He deliberately played the simpleton, fighting for time to find some solution to his conundrum. “But how could you return unobserved?”
“Three unfinished sections of the wall are there, and wilderness on three sides of Tullymullagh.” Ruarke scoffed. “ ’Twas easy for a man with something between his ears.”
Luc arched a brow. “A man deserving of Connor’s prize?”
“Aye! The Rose of Tullymullagh is no mere pretty wench, but a gem that would see a man’s wealth assured for a lifetime. I wanted it, I deserved it, as Connor’s chosen heir ’twas mine as much as Tullymullagh or his daughter.” Ruarke chuckled. “Though indeed, ’twas the only one of the lot I truly desired.”
Brianna gasped in outrage and struggled anew. Luc stepped forward, uncertain what Ruarke would do when his lips drew to such a cruel line.
But Brianna surprised them both.
Her eyes flashed, she abruptly lifted her heel and jammed it upward into the knight’s crotch. Ruarke’s eyes boggled, he staggered, Brianna jabbed an elbow in his ribs. Her wince revealed that Ruarke wore his chain mail, but in the same moment, Brianna slammed the top of her head against the underside of the knight’s jaw.
Ruarke bellowed in pain. “I bit my tongue!” he roared as Brianna broke free. Luc lunged forward, cursing the distance he had to cover in short time.
“Luc!” Brianna ran for Luc, but Ruarke snatched at her hair. He caught the end of Brianna’s braid, and she gasped. Luc was halfway across the stable, but Ruarke had plenty of time to backhand Brianna and send her sprawling into a stall.
The stable echoed with the sickening crack of Brianna’s head against the wood. Ruarke spat in the hay toward her limp form, then turned with a coldly confident smile that stopped Luc in his tracks.
“I will have the Rose now,” Ruarke invited.
Luc halted and blinked. “I do not have it.”
“You must!”
“I have never seen it nor laid a hand upon it.”
Brianna, to Luc’s relief, stirred slightly. He flicked an intent glance her way when her eyes fluttered open and she froze in understanding. Then, she lay back against the wall, her face a mask of pain, and touched her fingertips to her head.
But she watched their exchange avidly.
Ruarke did not notice her awakening.
“You lie!” Ruarke’s eyes flashed. “ ’Twas in the chapel, I knew it well, but I knew not where.” He advanced upon Luc, gesticulating wildly. “ ’Twas bad fortune that Connor found us there, and poorer fortune that Father Padraig found you making off with the treasure. I know full well you hid it because you did not have it upon your person that night.”
“So, ’twas you who attacked me, not Father Padraig?”
Ruarke grinned. “Though you surprised me, I must admit. I had to insult Gavin to provide a tale for your blackening of my eye.”
“You killed the priest?”
“Father Padraig had outlived his usefulness.” Ruarke scowled.
“And you killed Ismay?”
“Of course! That fool woman would have told all she knew, to the detriment of my plans.” Ruarke’s eyes narrowed in assessment. “Yet still I could not fathom where you had hidden the Rose.”
“Such a prize must be kept safe,” Luc countered evenly.
Ruarke smiled. “Trust me, I shall treasure it for all my days.” He squared his shoulders and extended his hand. “And I saw you gather it when you left Tullymullagh. Give to me what you took from beside Eva’s grave. Give to me what is rightfully mine.”
Luc blinked.
Brianna’s box.
The box of letters her sire had given her, letters purportedly written by Brianna’s dame. If the Rose of Tullymullagh was indeed there, then that prize hung around Luc’s very neck.
Brianna must never have seen the contents, for he knew she would not have lied to him.
But Luc would not surrender anything Brianna held so precious. Whether it held letters from her mother or a gem from her father mattered little.
’Twas her legacy and hers alone.
In that moment, Luc knew that he would break an old pledge to see matters come right. Aye, to see Brianna safe and her prize protected was worth abandoning a vow made in haste. ’Twas true enough that villains terrorized with their blades, but equally true that an honorable man could only defend the course of right with his own.
As Luc would defend his lady’s claim to the box her father granted to her.
“I will not surrender it to you,” he declared grimly.
“Then, you do have it!” Ruarke’s eyes flashed victoriously.
“But still you cannot have it.” Luc fingered the short dagger he carried at his belt and eyed the knight with resolve. “Though I have only a small blade, you will not win your prize easily from me.”
Ruarke snorted laughter. “Another lie!” He reached into a saddlebag Luc only now noted resting on the floor. There was a flash as a blade was withdrawn and another as ’twas cast toward him. The sword buried its point in the wooden floor and quivered, the sunlight catching its wickedly sharp edge.
’Twas a good blade, if not a great one.
’Twould have to do.
“Take a blade and welcome to it,” Ruarke declared with a cold grin. “Your sire shared the tale of your pledge to never take the hilt of a sword in your hand again.” His lip curled. “Coward!”
Luc glanced to a watchful Brianna, then stepped forward with purpose. He pulled the blade from the floor in one smooth move. Luc savored the weight of the weapon in his grip and deliberately met the startled gaze of his opponent.
“My sire oft misunderstands what is of import to me,” he confided coolly.
Ruarke’s eyes flashed, then he gripped his own blade. “I do not fear a rusty knight! Your skills will be as naught compared to mine!” Ruarke’s sword flashed dangerously as he lifted it high. “To the death, Luc Fitzgavin, to the death for the Rose of Tullymullagh.”
“To the death,” Luc agreed coldly and adjusted his stance. “But for the honor of the lady, not the gem.”
“Fool!” Ruarke lunged forward with sudden speed.
’Twas not a fair fight!
Brianna struggled to rise as the knights’ swords clashed heavily. Not only was she certain that Ruarke had not offered his better blade to his competitor—for Ruarke clearly had not a drop of chivalrous intent within his veins—but the former champion of Tullymullagh wore his mail.
Luc had none. And Luc had not raised a sword in over a decade. Brianna feared the lack of practice would not serve him well.
Even if his noble gesture had stolen her very breath away. She only wished she would have the chance to tell Luc as much.
Brianna clung to the edge of the stall and had to concede that Luc fought markedly well. His eyes flashed with determination, he parried and thrust with a vigor unexpected. His blade caught Ruarke on the elbow and that knight bellowed, no doubt more out of annoyance than pain. He dove after Luc once more and as they circled, Brianna had a dreadful glimpse of the fury burning in Ruarke’s eyes.
How could she ever have imagined there was any kindness in his heart?
Luc’s eyes, by contrast, were cold. He prodded Ruarke again and again, driving that man to retaliate with increasing vigor. Ruarke’s color rose hotly on his neck, but Luc repeatedly danced from the path of his sword with agile grace.
’Twas as though he deliberately provoked the better-armed man. Brianna glimpsed the shine of perspiration on Ruarke’s brow and recalled her sire’s complaints about the cursed weight of mail.
Luc was tiring his opponent apurpose. And Ruarke, with every passing moment, struck more vigorously yet with less accuracy.
Brianna clasped her hands together and prayed fervently for Luc’s success.
“I had expected you to be vastly more skilled,” Luc commented in an undertone that revealed no strain.
Ruarke’s nostrils flared. “I am a far finer knight than ever you might have been!” he retorted angrily. “For I am no coward!” And Ruarke punctuated his accusation with a savage slice at Luc’s knees.
The sweep of the blade came dangerously close before Luc stepped nimbly out of its path. He arched a brow at Ruarke, taunting him to repeat the deed.
Ruarke cursed and attacked with renewed vigor. They battled endlessly back and forth across the stable, and Brianna caught her breath when Luc faltered.
’Twas not her imagination that he parried Ruarke’s last thrust with less resolve. Was he more tired than she had guessed?
Ruarke clearly saw the same weakness. Brianna bit her knuckle in fear. Ruarke pounced upon Luc and, with a triumphant roar, drove his blade directly at Luc’s very heart.
“Nay!” Brianna cried as Luc not only took the blow, but fell to his back. He sprawled in the hay and, despite Brianna’s fervent prayer, her spouse did not move again.
Luc’s very stillness made Brianna’s blood run cold.
Then she heard the scrape of Ruarke’s dagger upon its sheath.
“Do not touch him!” she cried, but that knight only spared her a mocking glance.
“ ’Twas to the death we fought, princess.” Ruarke chuckled as he stepped over Luc. “Be patient but a moment until I finish the deed.”
“Nay!” Brianna cried. She flung herself across the stable, uncertain how she would aid Luc but knowing she had to do something.
But in truth she did not.
No sooner had Ruarke bent over the inert Luc than that man made a marked recovery. Luc’s sword flashed like lightning. Brianna saw his eyes flash with determination, and he drove his blade into his opponent’s chest with sudden vigor.
Brianna gasped.
Ruarke stumbled backward, his fingertips touching the hilt of his own blade. “My blade,” he murmured unevenly. “Mine own blade betrays me.”
“As you have betrayed so many others,” Luc said flatly. He rose to his own feet and watched the other knight falter, a decided chill in his eyes.
“You, you have the Rose of Tullymullagh,” Ruarke muttered and clenched a shaking fist. “ ’Tis unfair, ’tis wrong, it should have been mine!”
Luc raised his brilliant sapphire gaze to meet Brianna’s own and her breath caught in her throat. “The Rose of Tullymullagh that was the greater prize could readily have been your own,” he said with deliberation. “Had you had the wits to pursue it.”
“Sentimental fool!” Ruarke looked at Luc in disbelief, then stumbled to his knees. He coughed, then gasped in pain as the blood coursed between his fingers. He paled, then fell bonelessly into a stall. The steed stabled there took but one look at the wounded knight beneath his own feet.
Then Raphael snorted and kicked Ruarke savagely in the head.
And the former champion of Tullymullagh was no more.
“Nay, ’twas you who was the fool, Ruarke de Rossiers,” Luc stated with quiet resolve. He shook his head, then strode to Brianna’s side.
“Are you injured?” Before Brianna could answer, Luc’s fingers were quick and gentle in her hair.
She caught her breath when he found the sore spot on her head. “ ’Tis but a small bump, Luc, and naught worthy of concern.”
“ ’Twas a fearsome crack,” he insisted, his gaze bright with worry.
Brianna smiled up at him. “It has been said that my head is wondrously hard.”
Luc smiled crookedly in turn. “Not by me.”
“And what of you?” Brianna asked, her concern no less. “I thought that blow a telling one.”
“Ah, but my lady wife ensured my survival.” Luc’s eyes twinkled, though Brianna could not imagine why. He reached beneath his tabard and tapped the spot with his fingertip where he had taken the blow.
The ring of metal was unmistakable.
Brianna felt her eyes go round. “The box with my dame’s letters!”
“Aye, though, there may well be no letters within its sanctuary,” Luc advised. He touched Brianna’s cheek as though marvelling that she stood before him. “I hope I am wrong, for ’twas clear you looked forward to reading what she had written.”
Brianna ran her hands over his chest, still incredulous that he was not more sorely wounded. “The box took all of the strike? You are certain?”
Luc’s smile turned rueful. “No doubt there is a dint in it like the bruise that will blossom on my chest. The blow took the wind from me, that much is certain.”
“But no more than that,” Brianna breathed in relief.
“Nay.” Luc smiled down into her eyes. “No more than that.” The passion that suddenly shone in his eyes made Brianna’s heart pound. “You left before I could find the words,” he charged softly. “I should have never forgiven myself if you had paid a toll for that.”
Brianna did not dare to breathe. “What words?”
“I will have no doubt lingering in your mind, Brianna,” he said in a low voice. “Know this and know it well, for naught but love could have persuaded me to take your hand. I did not know its name so soon as that, but from the first moment we met, you intrigued me as never a woman had before.”
Luc smiled. “ ’Twas but a portent that you would seize my heart and make it your own.”
As Brianna watched, Luc dipped his head and brushed his lips across her knuckles, his bright blue gaze boring into her own. “I love you, Brianna. I swear it to you.”
His words rang with a conviction that could not be denied.
Before Brianna could catch her breath, Luc’s smile turned teasing. “Though, truly, I should not have been surprised that you would lay claim to my heart while I was so diligently seeking yours. You have a way of confounding expectation, my lady.”
Brianna could not halt her delighted smile. “As do you, sir!”
“Ah, then perhaps we should confound each other for a good many years.”
“ ’Twould only be fitting!” Brianna retorted with a grin and Luc gathered her close.
The door of the stable creaked open in that inopportune moment. “Why in the name of God are you folk making such a noise so early in the morn?” complained the tavern proprietor. “I know well enough that you have a ship to meet that sails with the tide, but is it too much to ask for a little consideration …”
The man’s words faltered as he evidently took in the sight before him.
Luc turned, Brianna’s hand clasped firmly in his own, and his voice rang with authority. “This man, one Ruarke de Rossiers, killed Connor of Tullymullagh, Ismay of Claremont, and a priest known as Father Padraig.”
“Mother of God!” the innkeeper whispered and crossed himself.
“He was once the champion of Tullymullagh and must have followed us here. He declared his intent to steal my wife and my steed out of some misbegotten conviction that they rightly belonged to him. There was naught I could do, of course, but defend my wife’s honor.”
Luc glanced at Raphael, then to the mark of his hoof upon Ruarke’s brow. “The steed, like many of his ilk, is somewhat temperamental.”
“Of course, my lord.” The innkeeper’s eyes went round. “What shall be done with him?”
“See that his body is sent to my steward Uther at Tullymullagh, complete with this tale. Uther shall see you duly compensated for your trouble.”
The innkeeper bowed low. “Aye, my lord! But what of you?”
“My ship leaves this morn, with the very tide, as you say.” Luc turned and offered Brianna his hand. “Shall we, my lady?”
Brianna smiled and clasped Luc’s hand within her own. “Of course.”
Brianna did not take well to the sea. Indeed, she turned pale as soon as they left the port and Luc spent the better part of the day holding her tightly while she vomited over the ship’s rails.
He was not about to lose his bride now.
By nightfall, Brianna was weak but claimed she felt better. Luc carried her to the hold below, where one end had been left for them, the only paying passengers on this late season journey. The two palfreys and Raphael were tethered in makeshift stalls at midship and the captain had gruffly provided a curtain of sorts across the nook Luc and Brianna made their own.
Luc did as well as he was able to see to his lady’s comfort. One lantern hung from the beam overhead, a veritable nest of cloaks surrounded her. The lady had charmed the ship’s cook, even in her state, for that man brought her a hot cup of broth.
Once ’twas clear Brianna would hold the soup in her belly, Luc doffed his own clothes and curled his heat around her. Brianna cuddled against him as Luc reached for his satchel. He dug out a particular metal box and laid it in his wife’s tiny hands.
She cradled it and slanted a glance his way. Brianna wrinkled her nose. “I am almost afraid to open it.”
“ ’Tis yours alone,” Luc assured her quietly. “Whatever it contains.”
Brianna ran her fingers over the new mark on its lid and smiled up at Luc. “My dame wanted you alive, make no mistake,” she teased.
They exchanged a warm smile, then Brianna pried open the box. Luc hoped against hope that she would find some missive from her mother there.
But the pair caught their breath as one at the treasure revealed. ’Twas marvelous, far more beautiful than Luc could ever have expected.
The Rose of Tullymullagh.
’Twas a crucifix wrought of amber and set in gold, of a size that would nestle easily in Luc’s flattened hand. Two rounded golden stones made each short arm, four equally large formed the long. Amethysts and pearls shone throughout the setting, and at the juncture where the arms met lay a ruby.
A blood red ruby the size of a man’s thumb. ’Twas wondrously made, the craftsmanship superb, and Luc was awed that any man could be granted such a gift of kings.
Brianna touched the gem with trembling fingers and Luc heard her tears. “My sire was killed for this,” she whispered unevenly.
“Nay!” He closed his hands over hers, his tone prompting her to meet his gaze. “Your sire was granted this,” Luc corrected firmly. “As a token of esteem from an elderly couple who loved him as their very own. That is how and only how you must think of this prize.”
Brianna smiled through the mist of her tears and ran her hand over the amber. “I do like that tale better.” She traced the setting around the ruby with a fingertip. “They must have cared for him deeply.”
“As he cared for you.” Luc assured his lady. “Your sire wanted to ensure you had it as your own, no doubt that ’twould become an heirloom to be prized.” Brianna glanced up at him once more and Luc smiled. “Though indeed, its symbolism of that love is the more powerful legacy.”
Brianna held Luc’s gaze long and slowly her sadness eased. Luc glanced to the box, yet within her hands, and frowned at a glimpse of parchment. “Look! There is something else beneath it.”
Brianna looked in turn, her tiny fingers trembling as she unfolded not one, but two sheets of vellum. The ink was faded, but still the script stretched from edge to edge, and ’twas clearly from an educated hand. She turned the fragile pieces in her hands, scanning them with evident anticipation.
And Brianna crowed with delight when she found what she sought.
“Luc! ’Tis signed by my dame!” She turned shining eyes upon him, and he smiled at her delight. “These are letters in her hand to my father!” Brianna shook her head and surveyed the contents of the box once again. “I never would have expected to have such a treasure, let alone the Rose of Tullymullagh itself.”
“Nay,” Luc corrected quietly. When Brianna looked at him in confusion, Luc grinned. “The Rose of Tullymullagh,” he murmured with intent, “is mine alone.” Brianna giggled as Luc bent and kissed that very rose so thoroughly that she could giggle no more.
’Twas no laughing matter for a man to claim his lady’s heart for his very own.
No less to grant her the custody of his heart in exchange.