Midnight Shadow (7 page)

A tall, thin old man stepped into his view. The old man bent immediately over Odella and a fierce protectiveness surged in Terran’s chest. He forced the feeling aside and pressed his back against the cold stone wall. His eyes never left the physician.

“Terran, you should get some rest,” Kenric advised.

Terran snorted his disagreement and crossed his arms over his chest. He was going nowhere. His cold black eyes remained locked on the physician. So help this man if he made one mistake, just one. He’d kill him with his bare hands.

The physician touched Odella’s throat, her wrist, her forehead, then put his hand about an inch away from her lips. He held it there for a long moment, then slowly lowered it.

The physician lifted his gaze to Kenric, nervousness in his eyes.

Terran uncrossed his arms, ready for explosive action. “What is it?” Terran demanded. His gaze dropped to Odella. “What’s wrong?”

“She’s dead, m’lord,” the physician announced.

Terran lifted dark eyes to pin the physician to the spot. Rage and fear churned in his heart. The old man recoiled from his deathly glare.

“I’m sorry,” the physician said meekly.

In one swift movement Terran grabbed the physician by his tunic front and slammed him against the wall. “Liar,” he snarled.

The old man quivered beneath Terran’s twisted grimace. “I -- I’m sorry, m’lord,” he stuttered. Terran tossed the old man aside, and the physician quickly fled the room.

Terran’s gaze slid to the woman in the bed. Her soft features were still, her eyes closed as if in sleep, her lips pale, but still pink.

Terran sat beside her on the bed, taking her hand in his trembling fingers, grief closing his throat. “Open your eyes, darling,” he whispered. “Show that old goat how wrong he is.”

But her eyes didn’t flutter. They didn’t open.

“Come, Odella. Don’t be stubborn. Open your eyes.” His voice cracked slightly.

Terran shifted his gaze from her cold fingers to her still face. She did not move. “Open your eyes, damn it!” he ordered through clenched teeth.

Her eyes remained closed.

Suddenly, grief consumed him and he swept her into a tight embrace, burying his face in her long golden locks. “Oh, no, no,” he whispered into her hair. Anguish shattered his last shards of self-control. His utter misery rolled from his eyes, from his very soul, in a torrent of torment. “Odella, Odella,” he repeated, over and over again.

Chapter Five

E
xhausted both mentally and physically, Bria and Garret rode home slowly. They’d searched together and with Mary’s father all day, but Bria knew it was useless. She knew Mary’s fate had been the same as the Widow Anderson’s. But there was no proof. The bloodied cloth they’d found didn’t prove much of anything. There were no bodies. How could she bring forth any accusations against Kenric when she had no solid proof?

It’s my fault. If I’d stayed with Mary, she’d still be alive.

Or you would have been killed, a voice inside her reminded.

She looked over at the setting sun. Her stomach rumbled, but she didn’t care. Grief and fatigue warred within her. The red sky wavered before her watery eyes.

“What should I do, Garret?” she whispered, staring at the castle as they approached it.

“Do?” Garret asked. “There’s nothing to do. Mary could return to her house at any moment.”

Bria closed her eyes. “You know she won’t. Kenric killed her.”

“You don’t know that,” Garret said. “She could be hiding in the forest or at someone’s house. You didn’t see Kenric kill her. Maybe she got away.”

Bria opened her hand and stared down at the bloodied cloth. She knew Mary hadn’t escaped. She would have gone home, or come to Castle Delaney. Grief welled within her. Her best friend. And it was her fault.

“Bria!”

Bria lifted her head to see her grandfather running across the drawbridge toward her. “I’ve been looking for you the entire day,” he said in a worried voice. He came up short before her, reaching up for her, his old lungs fighting for a breath. Bria took his hand and dismounted.

“I’ll stable your horse.” Garret moved the animal off toward the castle.

Harry studied Bria’s downcast face. “I’m so sorry.” He engulfed her in a tight hold and rocked her slightly. “I heard about your friend.”

“Oh, Grandfather.” She pressed her face into his chest. All her grief and desperation and guilt came out in a torrent of sobs. Her grandfather’s embrace tightened, and she knew she wasn’t worthy of his comfort.

Her best friend was gone, and she’d abandoned her, had all but killed her. “It was Kenric,” she wept. The entire story spilled out, ending with, “I know he killed her.” Her grandfather stroked her back, comforting her as she spoke. “I thought of going to Knowles and telling him what Kenric did...”

“No!” her grandfather snapped.

Startled, Bria pulled back and lifted her reddened eyes to her grandfather. The terror in his gaze took her aback.

He shook his head as if clearing it. “I mean, it would do no good,” he explained. “You’re a woman. Knowles would never believe your word against his cousin’s. Kenric is his trusted sheriff. Besides, then your father would find out you’ve been on Knowles’ lands, and he strictly forbade that years ago.”

“I don’t care if Father finds out. We’re talking about Mary’s murderer. Knowles should know.”

“Knowles won’t give a damn.” Harry held Bria at arm’s length and gazed into her eyes. There was a bitterness in his voice he couldn’t disguise.

“But I’m a noble,” Bria protested. “That has to count for something in Knowles’ eyes.”

“Even nobles lie, my dear.”

“But what can I do? I left Mary there, Grandfather. I can’t just... just leave her death unpunished.”

Harry stroked her hair soothingly. “I don’t think there’s anything you can do. Mary wasn’t one of your father’s people. She’s not your responsibility.”

“She was my friend, Grandfather,” Bria whimpered. “She was my best friend.”

“I know, Bria. I know.” Her grandfather wrapped his arm around her shoulder and began to escort her back into the safety of Castle Delaney. “But she lived on the wrong lands. She lived under the rule of a tyrant who has no sense of justice.”

***

The fire in the hearth crackled and hissed angrily, the flames sparking and snapping. Bria watched the tendrils. They were yelling at her for leaving Mary. She pulled her knees to her chest. Even the fire didn’t warm her cold, despondent spirit. She couldn’t forgive herself for leaving Mary with Kenric. She couldn’t forgive herself for thinking of her own life before the life of her friend.

“Little Lady?”

Bria would have smiled had she not felt so utterly miserable. It was her father’s pet name for her. She turned to look at him over her shoulder. He was tall and handsome, with a commanding presence few others could claim. His dark brown hair was speckled with gray and his face was lined with wrinkles from the sun, from worry, and from laughter, but his blue eyes held wisdom beyond his years.

Bria adored her father. She hardly noticed his left arm, which hung limp and lifeless at his side. It was a dead weight, rendered useless in the war against France. When he had returned home three years ago, Bria had nursed him back to health, but he’d never recovered from the crippling wound.

“Is something wrong?” he asked.

“A friend of mine died today,” she answered evasively. If he knew she’d spent the day on Knowles’ lands, he’d have her head.

“Yes,” he replied, taking the seat beside her. “I heard. And I’m sorry. But that’s part of life.”

“It doesn’t ease the pain,” Bria snapped.

“No, it doesn’t,” he answered.

“Especially when she was murdered.”

Her father was silent for a long time as he stared into the fire. “I know you’re sad, Bria, so I won’t punish you for crossing over onto Knowles’ lands.”

Bria grimaced. She didn’t care whether he punished her or not. She deserved to be punished for her cowardice. She deserved a whipping. She deserved a hundred lashes, nay a thousand!

“But I will not have my order disobeyed again. Is that understood?”

Bria nodded.

“Stay off of Knowles’ lands,” he ordered. “Let this go, Bria. I don’t want my only child hurt. Besides, you should be concentrating on choosing a suitor.”

Bria looked away from him, her teeth clenched in anger. He was so concerned with betrothing her. How could she concentrate on choosing a mate? How could she even care about her own future when her friend no longer had one?

She couldn’t let Kenric get away with Mary’s death. He’d been getting away with horrible things for far too long. Someone had to do something.

Defeat, frustration, and grief swirled within her. What could she do? Who could she go to? Her father wouldn’t accuse Kenric without proof of Mary’s death, and he could ill afford to go to war with Knowles, even if he would risk his lands for a farmer’s daughter who wasn’t even one of his own people.

No, there’d be no help from him. Perhaps her grandfather would help, if she pleaded enough. But Grandfather was no longer lord of the castle. That was her father’s role. After her father had come back from the war so wounded, her grandfather had magnanimously given the castle to his son. Now Father’s word was law; Grandfather would obey his orders without question. There’d be no help from him either.

Despite her grandfather’s warning, despite her father’s direct command, she had to do something. Something very drastic. Only one man could help her. Only one man could act upon the truth.

And that man was Lord Terran Knowles.

Chapter Six

E
veryone had forbidden her from entering Knowles’ lands -- her grandfather, her father, everyone. So why had she rushed out first thing in the morning and gone straight to Castle Knowles’ Great Hall, demanding to see Knowles? Because she couldn’t live with herself without doing something to avenge Mary’s death. And telling Knowles who had murdered the old woman, and probably Mary, too, was the only thing she could think of.

Surely Knowles wasn’t as bad as all of the stories and gossip portrayed him -- a cruel tyrant who sat up in the towers of his castle, counting the coins he’d squeezed from his people. He couldn’t be that bad. Surely he’d do something about Mary’s death. He’d punish Kenric.

Bria sighed and looked around the hall. Near the back of the room, two servants scurried from table to table, cleaning up the remnants of the morning meal. One man was stretched out on the floor near the dying hearth, sleeping, or dead. Bria couldn’t tell which.

Bria looked at the doors behind her again. She’d sent a serving girl to find Lord Knowles, since he hadn’t greeted her when she arrived. It seemed like hours ago. Bria glanced back at the two women cleaning the tables. They hadn’t offered her anything to eat or drink. What kind of lord was this Knowles to treat people so rudely? In Castle Delaney, servants would be rushing over one another to serve any guest, much less a guest of noble blood.

Bria shifted slightly and dusted off her blue satin skirt.

“He won’t see you,” a voice called from the doorway behind her.

Bria swung around, appalled at Knowles’ lack of hospitality. But she froze in terror and shock as Kenric approached her.

Run! The thought exploded through her mind, but fright held her immobile as Kenric’s gaze swept her body disrespectfully. She wanted to dash from the room and keep running, never looking back. She wanted to hide behind a bush, in a cave, in the forest, anywhere this man wasn’t. But she stood absolutely still, clenching her hands before her. She couldn’t help but glance at the sword strapped to his waist.

“Lady Bria.” He greeted her with a slight bow. “What a pleasure to see you again.” A smug grin slithered onto his lips.

She frowned at the mockery in his voice. “Kenric,” she managed to say.

“I’m so sorry, but Lord Knowles is quite... indisposed.” Kenric told her. “If you would have sent a messenger...” He shrugged.

“Yes,” she murmured. Run! The thought again pierced her mind. Run! But she didn’t move for a long moment as she fought to remain calm. “Then I’ll be going.” She moved to step past him, aware of the sudden tightness in her chest.

He reached out for her arm, his fingers barely brushing her sleeve. She tore her arm away as if his nails were tipped with poison. A smile quirked his lips. “Do you desire some refreshment?”

“No,” she said quickly. “Father is waiting for me. I’d better leave.” The tightness in her chest refused to abate. She found it harder to take a breath the longer she stood near the man.