A Knight of Honor Page 12

  Confusion flashed in her eyes. Then she shook her head. “I intended for Corydon to find me,” she admitted.

  Slane’s eyes narrowed to mere glints of hot blue. “He killed your friend. Have you a wish to join Jared?”

  Taylor’s gaze narrowed to match Slane’s.

  He shook her arm. “We were lucky last time to escape unscathed. Jared was not so lucky. He died protecting you!”

  Her own guilt spoken on Slane’s lips drove a dagger into her heart. Her vision suddenly blurred.

  “He sacrificed his life for your freedom. Well, I’m not going to give my life for you.” He tossed the parchment to the floor and moved to step past her. “You can play that game alone.”

  “He knew the risks of traveling with me,” she snarled. “He knew his life was in danger every day he spent with me.”

  Slane whirled on her, his teeth ground tight. “He was your friend! And now you court his killer like some lover! If Corydon knows where we’re headed, don’t you think he’ll do everything in his power to stop us?”

  Taylor faced Slane with clenched fists. Her entire body trembled with her whirling emotions -- grief, anger, disappointment. “That’s what I’m counting on.”

  Slane took a step forward. “You are mad,” he hissed with conviction. He grabbed her shoulders suddenly and Taylor could see the anguish in his blue eyes. “Do you know what he’ll do to you?”

  “Do you know what I’ll do to him?” Taylor gritted.

  Slane stared at her for a long moment as if reading her deepest thoughts. The anger faded as understanding slowly lit his eyes. Something washed over Slane’s face and his grip eased on her shoulders. He studied her for a long, quiet moment. “That’s very honorable of you, Taylor, but –”

  “Honor has nothing to do with it,” she retorted vehemently, jerking free of his hold. “Jared was not just my friend -- he was my family. I would be dead if it wasn’t for him. I owe him that much.”

  Slane stood motionless, apparently unmoved by her confession.

  Shaken by the fierce emotions raging in her body, she turned her back on him, facing the flickering shadows thrown by the dancing flames of the hearth. She crossed her arms before her heated body.

  “You think you stand a chance against Corydon?”

  She raised her chin in defiance. She didn’t care. All she knew was she had to try.

  “He’ll kill you, and then your death and Jared’s will be for naught.” Slane took a step closer. She could feel his gaze on her, the nearness of his body. “You don’t want his death to be unavenged, do you?”

  “No,” she said after a moment.

  “Then join forces with my brother,” Slane suggested.

  “I don’t need anyone’s help,” Taylor insisted.

  “Corydon has men to protect him, guards with him all the time. He is not a foolish man, or I would have killed him myself a long time ago for daring to lay his sights on Donovan lands.” He stepped around her to look at her face. “With Richard’s men and resources, you can avenge Jared’s death. I think deep down you know that.”

  Taylor stared at the wavering shadows on the wall. A log popped and sparks flew into the air behind her. She knew he was right. But the fact remained that she didn’t trust nobles. To trust this Richard, to ally herself with him? She didn’t know if she could do that.

  She turned to tell Slane that, but the tender way he was staring at her caught her off guard; she could have sworn she saw admiration in his eyes. She shut her mouth and took a deep breath. “I suppose you’re right,” she found herself saying.

  Slane captured her hand in his and a smile lit his face. Taylor suddenly found it hard to breathe. He lifted her knuckles to his lips. When they touched her skin, a powerful shock seared through her body. She eased her hand free of his hold.

  His smile wouldn’t fade. “Then we ride to Castle Donovan,” he proclaimed. “We should be there within the week, if the weather holds.”

  But she wasn’t listening to his words; she was massaging her knuckles. A strange prickling sensation remained where his lips had caressed her skin. She knew that joining forces with Richard was the only way to defeat Corydon and avenge Jared’s death, but she couldn’t stop the nagging feeling that this was too easy. Why would Richard join forces with her?

  As she turned away to return to her room, Slane halted her by gently grabbing her elbow. “No more letters?” Slane asked.

  Taylor shook her head in agreement. “No more letters.”

  He ran a finger along the length of her jaw line, bestowing on her another smile. It warmed her insides, blanketing her in a rush of delight. She couldn’t help but grin back. Then he turned away from her, and she found that her moment in the sun was gone. Slapped back to reality, her grin faded and apprehension replaced it.

  ***

  Just as they reached Sherville, a misty rain began to saturate the air. They ducked inside an inn just in time to miss the downpour.

  Slane had never seen so many people crammed into an inn at one time before. Some of the people seemed sick beyond anything he had ever experienced himself. Their faces were pale, their skin hanging in loose folds on their bones.

  Slane shouldered his way through the peasants to the innkeeper to secure their lodging. When he turned back to the inn’s common room, he was frowning. Near the back of the room, a man coughed harshly and bent over, clutching at his chest as if it were on fire.

  “This damn scourge is everywhere,” Slane heard one man mutter.

  “Everyone who can still stand is fleeing the city,” another voice added.

  Slane made his way to the table, where Taylor waited for him among a dozen other men and women; every table in the place was just as overcrowded. Slane sat on the end of the bench, opposite her, and reached for one of the ales the bar wench had just set down in front of him. He took a long drink. “I got us a room here for the night,” he said.

  She nodded slightly to indicate she had heard him, but she said nothing. She brushed a lock of hair from her face, her eyes on the man beside her. His arm shoved into her ribs as he ate. She moved over farther, but Slane could see the irritation etched in the tight lines around her mouth.

  She glanced at him, scowling fiercely and stood, swiping one of the ales from the table. “I think I’ll go up to my room now.”

  Slane deliberately cleared his throat, drawing her gaze. “Our room,” he corrected her.

  She stopped cold. “What?”

  “The innkeeper only had one room left. It was probably the last room left in this whole town.” Slane saw a troubled look sweep over her features.

  “Aren’t you worried about your reputation?” she wondered.

  “I have little choice.”

  Taylor whirled away from the table, her mug held tightly in her shaking hand. As she pushed her way through the throng of people, she was shoved from behind. She jerked forward, her mug flying free of her hold. It landed on the floor and rolled, leaving a trail of lukewarm ale behind it. Taylor righted herself, whirling on the hapless man who jostled her.

  Slane felt his spine stiffen. Was she going to run the poor farmer through?

  The man was apologetic, sincerely begging her forgiveness. Taylor grumbled something that made the poor farmer’s face turn pale; then she stormed for the door.

  Slane shook his head and rose, clutching his mug of ale, and followed her. Once outside, he saw her sitting beneath the cover of a large tree with her head buried in her arms. Rain fell around her. He remembered that, when he had first hired her and Jared, she had seemed so cocky, so confident -- confident enough to lie through her teeth about her true identity and get away with it. But the last few weeks had been too much. She had lost her closest friend. She had learned that her father -- a man who had not given a damn about her in eight years -- wanted to see her. She seemed overwhelmed by it all.

  The shadows thrown by the gently swaying tree cast her in darkness, allowing only a teasing glimpse of her when the moonligh
t happened to shine through the thin clouds.

  Slane knew he should leave her alone, knew she needed time to sort everything out, but somehow he couldn’t stay away from her. He hunched his shoulders and dashed across the road through the rain. He sat down in the grass beside her, casting furtive glances in her direction.

  “I don’t want your pity,” she told him.

  “I’m not giving it,” Slane said. “I just want you to know that you’re not alone.”

  She snorted softly in disbelief.

  He handed his mug to her and she cast him a speculative glance before accepting it.

  Slane knew now that she wasn’t what she appeared to be. She pretended to be someone who was strong and unfeeling, someone who didn’t care what was right. And yet she felt things very strongly. She had a strong sense of honor. And she had saved his life from Hugh’s dagger, never once taking credit for it. He chanced a glance at her.

  In a stray ray of moonlight her hair shone like black onyx. Slane wanted to touch the dark silkiness, to see if it truly was as soft as it looked. He knew he shouldn’t, but in the next instant his hand was rising to touch her hair. It was softer than he had even imagined. His eyes shifted to hers. They were so bright, so expectant. And there was pain in them -- pain that Slane wanted desperately to relieve.

  He cupped her cheek in his palm, rubbing it with his thumb. Against her moonlight-white skin his shadowed hand looked black.

  His gaze returned to her eyes. The brightest most precious emerald gems he had ever seen stared back at him, brilliant, sparkling. “Taylor,” he whispered.

  “Slane, don’t,” she murmured.

  He wasn’t sure he understood.

  “I don’t think I could stand –” She pulled her face free from his touch and stood. “Maybe we should go inside.”

  Slane rose before her to tower over her. “What, Taylor?”

  But she would not turn back to him.

  “Have I hurt you somehow?” he asked.

  “I’m just protecting your reputation,” she answered quietly. “I don’t want you to be found out here alone with the likes of me.”

  “Do you think you endanger my reputation so much?”

  “I think you’re afraid of me,” she answered.

  “Afraid of you?” Slane laughed.

  But Taylor was not laughing. She turned to him and her incredible innocent beauty did indeed make him fearful. He suddenly knew he would do anything for this creature, this woman who was driving him crazy with need. His laughter stopped instantly, catching in his throat. He knew he should look away before she saw the truth in his eyes, but when he saw her sarcastic grin he knew it was too late.

  She began to move past him.

  Slane recognized the indifference in her face, the shield she used so effectively to hide her feelings. He hated that sarcastic side to her. He grabbed her arms, halting her movement. “Don’t. Don’t raise that wall to me, Taylor. I’ve seen the person you can be. I’ve seen the person who hides behind that wall. Don’t shut me out. I care for you.” He saw the determination reinforce the wall in the way she angled her chin, in that stubborn glare in her eyes. Slane shook her slightly. “Do you hear me?”

  “I heard,” she whispered. “I just can’t.”

  “Why?” he asked in agony, refusing to release her, afraid she would slip back behind the wall.

  Taylor’s eyes darted from one of his to the other, as if desperately searching for something.

  “Why?” he demanded, shaking her hard, desperately. He had to know. She had to tell him. Why wouldn’t she let him comfort her?

  “I’d destroy you,” she whispered.

  Shocked, Slane released her, and she raced into the misty rain, disappearing in the shadows beyond the inn.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Taylor spent the night walking in circles around the inn, trying to find something to occupy her mind, trying to think of anything but Slane. Anything but the way he made her feel.

  The rain had stopped, and the moon was taking its downward descent as she returned to the inn. She pushed the door open and found that the common room was now virtually empty. One small boy sat in a corner, his head nodding into his shoulder. He came to his feet at once when she entered.

  Taylor smiled at him and waved him back into his seat, shaking her head. The boy slowly, dubiously, eased himself back into his corner. He couldn’t have been more than eight. He should have been in bed long ago.

  Taylor’s gaze shifted to the stairs. She didn’t even know which room was hers. Theirs. She sighed. Looks like I’ll share the corner with the boy, she thought.

  “You ready?”

  She jumped at the deep rumble and swung around, her hand going to her sword handle. Deep blue eyes watched her movements with an intensity that saw through to her soul. She relaxed her grip, easing her hand from the weapon, even though she felt no lessening of the tension in her shoulders. Her eyes assessed him with a quick glance. “You waited for me?” she asked suspiciously.

  “Of course,” Slane responded, turning toward the stairs.

  She watched his tunic stretch across his strong shoulder muscles as he reached for the banister. “Oh,” she said, following him. “Had to make sure I didn’t change my mind about those notes.”

  Slane halted and Taylor almost slammed into his back. He turned and gazed down at her. “No,” he said plainly. “I had to make sure you knew which room was ours.”

  Ours. The word sent shivers through her body.

  He turned his back to her and continued up the stairs. Unnerved, Taylor glanced around the common room. She spotted the boy, again asleep in the corner, his chin on his chest. A sense of envy filled her at the peaceful look on his face, and she found herself shaking her head as she followed Slane to their room.

  She had hoped to be so exhausted that she would fall asleep the instant she got into bed. But as she followed Slane into the room, she knew this was not to be. There was barely enough room in the living quarters for the bed, let alone two people. Taylor felt uneasy and out of place. She glanced down the hallway as if hoping an escape route would suddenly open up.

  “Are you going to leave the door open all night?” he wondered.

  Her sarcasm returned with whiplash severity. “I thought it might help to protect your honor.” She stepped into the room.

  He turned to her then, and they were almost chest to chest. She could see the weariness in the black lines beneath his eyes. “Maybe you should be more concerned with your own reputation.”

  “My reputation?” she echoed, her voice rising a notch. “I don’t think it could get worse.”

  Slane took a step toward her and her breath caught in her throat. His chest just barely touched hers. “I think it could get worse,” he said in a throaty whisper. “Don’t you?”

  Taylor opened her mouth to reply, but nothing came out. Her throat was suddenly as dry as parchment paper.

  Slane stared down at her with those infinitely blue eyes that reminded her of a cloudless sky. He lifted his arm and it brushed her shoulder. He’s going to kiss me, she thought. Her gaze dropped to his lips, anticipating the feel of their brush against hers.

  Something banged shut behind her, and it took a moment for her to realize that it was the door closing. I’m alone in a room with Slane, she thought. A small room. A very small room with only one bed. Heat flared through her veins.

  “Taylor,” he whispered in something close to a sigh.

  Her body trembled and she realized that it was from desire -- the desire to be kissed by Slane. Of his own free will.

  “I’m tired. We’ve got a long day tomorrow,” he said.

  Tired. So her plan had worked. Too bad it hadn’t worked on her. Disappointment flooded through her as Slane stepped away from her. There would be no kiss.

  “You should get some sleep, too,” he said, bending down next to the bed to settle onto the floor.

  “You’re sleeping on the floor?”

  “Where
else would you have me sleep? Out in the hallway?”

  Taylor lifted the ripped fabric that covered the bed. “There’s only one blanket.”

  Slane waited expectantly for her to continue.

  “It’s not big enough to cover both of us.”

  “Then it shall cover you,” he stated simply and lay down on the floor, turning his back to her.

  Taylor stared at the blanket in her hand for a moment, then dropped it back onto the bed, plopping down after it. She unstrapped her sword and laid it on the bed beside her. Then she pulled her boots off, tossing them unceremoniously to the floor, and pulled the blanket up over her body.

  She snorted slightly. Who said she wanted him to kiss her anyway?

  Her eyes drifted closed.

  ***

  Taylor awoke with a start. She was soaked with perspiration, her tunic clinging to her wet skin. She remembered dreaming of flames and Jared and black-clad men with glowing red eyes. She reached out in the darkness to find her sword and relaxed.

  In the moonlight that shone through the window, she saw Slane sleeping on the floor beside the bed. She reached out a hand to wake him, but stopped cold. What could she tell him? That she was frightened like a child?

  Taylor swung her legs from the bed, but as the straw rustled, she froze. Her eyes moved to Slane, but he hadn’t stirred. Quietly grabbing her sword, she stood up. She cast another cautious glance at Slane. Then she picked up her boots and headed for the door.

  She reached for the handle.

  “Where are you going?”

  She jumped. Slane was still lying on the floor, but his eyes were open.

  “To get an ale,” she explained in a whisper as if still trying not to wake him.