Chapter 17
Tension coiled in Kallen’s stomach. It threatened to erupt at any moment. The black and green bands burned even more brightly around Rodger as the night sky began to lighten.
Kallen estimated they’d ridden three hours or more, making their way carefully since it was still before dawn. Had Griffith said how far it was to Walmouth Woods? Why was the rendezvous point so far away?
She had not spoken to Sir Rodger the entire time.
She didn’t know if she trusted her voice.
Would he hear the fear and doubt within her words?
He must have some sign of her uneasiness from her body.
It was stiff and unyielding against him as they rode.
Kallen was unused to any man’s touch. Except for Griffith’s.
She longed for the comfort of Griffith’s arms about her.
She decided she could wait no longer and asked, “Are we far from Walmouth Woods?”
Rodger hesitated before he replied. “Do not trouble yourself, my lady. You are safe.”
His answer did not suit her. “Am I?” She glanced over her shoulder at him.
“For now. Who knows what lies ahead?” he asked cryptically.
It was not the comforting response she desperately wished for and only added to her agitation.
Suddenly, Sir Rodger reined in his horse in the middle of the road and dismounted. “We shall stop here and rest the beast. He’s been ridden hard for far too long. I doubt we’ve been followed.”
Sir Rodger reached up to help her down. As his fingers captured her waist, Kallen’s panic grew. He set her upon the ground but held on to her a bit too long.
He gave her a sly look and said, “No need for alarm. I can protect you as well as—even better than—Griffith Sommersby.” He laughed. “I read in your eyes otherwise. Trust me, Lady. I am capable of more than you’d imagine.”
“You’re ambitious. Materialistic.” The words popped from Kallen without warning. She wished she could push him back. He stood too close. She found it hard to breathe.
The knight eyed her carefully. “You are a good judge of character. What you say of me is true. I want what I cannot have, all the finer things in life. Yet I am a second son whose fool of a brother runs our family estate. I should, only I was born minutes too late. He possesses all while I have nothing. It should be mine.”
Quietly, she said, “We must accept our lot in life, Sir Rodger. ‘Tis God’s plan for us, and we should abide by it.”
“God’s plan!” he roared. “Do not talk of God. I wish I could defy Him and slay my worthless brother. Then I could gain everything due me.”
Sir Rodger moved away from Kallen and began to pace frantically as he became caught up in a tirade.
“I am the better rider. Better at swordplay. I dance circles around him in the hunt, yet he has all. I am relegated to serve another when others should serve me.”
His tone frightened Kallen as much as the mad look in his eye. He plopped upon a fallen log and hung his head for a long moment, cradling it in his hands. When he raised it, his eyes met hers, a fury blazing within them.
“As it is, I shall go to Hell.”
“Why?”
He shook his head. “My soul is not my own. It now belongs to the Earl of Nowland. One gambler knows another well. I had debts accrue, and Nowland kept me from prison. I work for him now. I might as well go to Hell, my pockets lined with his gold.”
His words confused Kallen. “I thought you in service to my uncle and Mangeron. Who is this earl?”
Sir Rodger’s eyes glittered. “Someone who must want you very badly, Kallen de Mangeron.”
Kallen shuddered and took a step back from him. “Explain yourself.”
“Those weren’t common highwaymen tonight who attacked. That band of men belonged to the earl. I recognized one immediately as soon as he fought near us by the firelight. Why do you think I got you out of there so quickly?”
“But we’re to meet Griffith at—”
“Damn Griffith! He’s a self-righteous pig. He could never understand my dilemma. He’ll gain Sommerset when his old man finally dies. He’ll never have to work as I will.”
He stood, glaring at her. “I take my opportunities when I see them. And you, my sweet, are a plump one.”
Kallen took off running blindly, fear driving her, but her cumbersome skirts got in the way. The knight easily caught up to her and tackled her. She fell face down into the dirt.
He whipped her over, his weight pressing her into the ground, and smiled at her. “I like spirit in a woman.”
What she saw in his eyes frightened her more than any words he’d uttered.
He leaned in, his breath warm on her cheek. “I know Nowland has a good reason for wanting you, so I’ll see you safely into his hands. That doesn’t mean we cannot enjoy a little sport before we return.”
Kallen didn’t understand his words, but his tone made her go cold inside. She already had trouble breathing with him atop her. When would he get off?
Then her captor quickly began to raise the hem of her skirts. He forced a knee between her thighs. Whispered talk of the nuns came crashing back to Kallen.
“…what all men want... a grave sin outside the bonds of marriage... a fate worse than death...”
Kallen knew he meant to force himself upon her. Take her virginity. ‘Twould be painful and humiliating.
And wrong. Against God’s laws and man’s.
She clawed at his hands, trying to push him away, but he only laughed. She turned her nails on his face, digging deeply into the tender skin. He cried out hoarsely in pain and slapped her hard.
Kallen saw a myriad of stars for a moment, then darkness came rushing up toward her. She fought it, knowing if she succumbed, she would awake a ruined woman.
If she awoke. Despite his promise to deliver her to another, she did not know if he could be believed. She felt her very life threatened, along with her pureness. In an instant, she knew what she must do.
Her eyes still closed, she reached into her pocket and slipped out the dagger, gripping the handle firmly. She knew she would have but one blow. It must count. She sent a prayer to the Virgin for help and forgiveness alike.
And slammed the blade into the side of Rodger’s neck.
He lifted his head and stared at her, his eyes wide in surprise. Kallen pushed the baselard in further and gave it a twist, surprised at the anger that drove her.
An odd gurgle came from him. He collapsed atop her.
His heavy weight, coupled with the warmth of blood pouring from his wound onto her, nauseated her.
Kallen pushed against him and he rolled onto the ground.
His hands went to his throat as blood bubbled from his mouth.
He actually yanked out the knife. The helpless cry that followed was like an animal caught in a steel trap.
His eyes focused on Kallen and pleaded with her as his lips moved, no sound coming from them. Sorrow and guilt overwhelmed her. She knelt beside him and took his hand, watching in horror as his aura faded.
“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry,” she told him over and over. She prayed aloud, appealing to the Blessed Virgin to take his spirit. “God forgives us our sins, Sir Rodger. He will forgive you of yours if you but ask. Even in your mind. Simply give your burden to Him.”
The knight’s body convulsed. He went still. Kallen rose, her surcoat’s front doused in blood. Her hands were wet and sticky as well. She leaned down and wiped them on the grass.
She spied the dagger lying there and retrieved it. She might need it yet.
Then panic set in. Her mind screamed at her, demanding she flee, not knowing where to go, realizing she’d actually killed a man.
Kallen ran to the horse, hoping it wouldn’t shy away from the smell of blood. The horse moved not a muscle, and she thought it must be a war-horse, trained to the sounds and smells of battle.
She spoke gently to the beast. “We must leave. You must take me to Walmouth Woods. Please.”
But the horse did not know this place. No pictures came from his mind to hers.
“’Tis all right. We shall get ourselves on the road and find someone who can direct us there.”
Kallen mounted the horse. Her whisper—half prayer, half plea—begged God to let Griffith find her or she him.
Before this Earl of Nowland did.