Chapter One
Beneath his armor, a chill ran down Galfrid’s back as he entered his childhood home for the first time in fifteen years.
Knaresborough Castle had been nearer a hell than a home.
The only person who truly cared about him here had been his mother.
God rest her soul. He was grateful his face was hidden beneath his helm as he stepped up to the threshold, having no desire to be recognized.
Lady Julia, who he’d been charged to protect, held her head high as they passed through the heavy, metal-studded doors, her chestnut hair cascading down her back in tantalizing waves.
Her pale-blue silk dress was the same shade as her eyes, which thankfully he couldn’t see at that moment. But they haunted his soul, nonetheless.
A jolt of recognition ran through him as he spotted his half brother approaching.
The boy he once knew was Lord Eustace now, his chiseled face was devoid of the baby fat that had given him a false air of innocence in their youth.
Eustace might have grown more handsome with age, but he still had those snake-green eyes.
With difficulty, Galfrid resisted the temptation to draw his sword and lop the viper’s head off.
“Lady Julia, welcome to your new home. I trust your journey was uneventful?” Eustace bowed his golden-blond head, and Julia curtsied, all stiff formality.
“Yes, my lord.” Her voice was steady, devoid of any emotion. Anyone else would have thought her proper and polite, but Galfrid knew her moods too well. If she had ever given him such a cold greeting, he would have backed away quickly.
“One never knows what hazards one might meet crossing the moors.” Eustace’s cruel lips curled into a chilly smile as he offered his arm.
Galfrid clenched his jaw as he watched this nightmare play out. He might have been born a bastard, but he would have been a far better husband to her than his half brother. If only he’d run away with her like she’d asked him to on the journey here!
But he couldn’t. This match was the will of the Queen Dowager, Eleanor. If they defied her will, they would have had to live in hiding for the rest of their lives. He couldn’t subject Julia to that.
She held her head high as she stepped forward, and Galfrid replayed the moment when he’d sworn to her father that he would keep her safe from all harm in his head. This was what he’d agreed to, and there was no going back.
Still, as he watched her place her hand on Eustace’s arm, he was certain he’d chosen wrongly.
He stepped forward to follow the couple, armor rattling as he crossed the stone floor.
Eustace stopped and turned. “You are dismissed. Your services are no longer needed. I will take care of Lady Julia now.”
Julia set her gaze on Galfrid, eyes ablaze. “No. My father wished for Sir Galfrid to stay until I am wed. He is under orders not to hand over my dowry until we’ve spoken our vows.”
Lord Crispin had made no such stipulations, but Galfrid couldn’t deny her, even if he recognized it for the stalling tactic it was.
Eustace’s eyes narrowed. “Did you say ‘Sir Galfrid’? Don’t tell me you’ve brought that red-headed bastard into my family home.” He dropped Julia’s arm and stepped forward. “Take off your helm.”
Galfrid gritted his teeth and did as he was told. So much for staying anonymous.
“God’s bones! It is you! I thought Mother made it clear when she sent you away that you were never to darken this doorstep again.”
“I don’t answer to you or Lady Basilia. I owe fealty to Lord Crispin alone, and I will see his orders carried out.” Though Galfrid was the same height as Eustace, he had considerably more bulk, and he knew his battle-hardened glare held enough menace to make even the bravest soldier quail.
Eustace took a swift step back. The coward had probably never fought a battle in his life. He’d only been able to bully Galfrid in their youth because Galfrid hadn’t been allowed to hit him in return.
“Very well. We wed this evening. Galfrid may stay until then. After that, I want him gone.” Turning away, Eustace offered his arm to Julia, who cast a pleading glance at Galfrid before taking it.
Heart bleeding out on the floor, Galfrid replaced his helm, hoping no one noticed his distress before he hid his face again.
“With any luck,” Eustace grumbled, “the Moonlight Marauder will do something useful for once and tear out Galfrid’s heart on his way home.”
Galfrid would have chuckled at the mention of the old tale if he were less distraught. He hadn’t thought about the Moonlight Marauder since he’d left Knaresborough as a boy. It was hard to imagine how such a silly ghost story had frightened him once upon a time!
“Who is the Moonlight Marauder?” Julia asked, casting a worried glance back at Galfrid.
“Nothing to worry about, my dear. Just an old story about a ghost who wanders the moors, taking vengeance on the unwary. They say the mere sight of him can freeze your blood and stop your heart.” He led her through the cavernous entry hall and into the great hall where a fire burned in an enormous hearth, casting flickering shadows on the gloomy stone walls.
The space was just as Galfrid remembered, with trestle tables arranged along the sides and a high table by the hearth.
As a child, he’d always looked longingly at the high table, wondering if one day his father might invite him to join him there.
It had been a foolish hope. Bastards didn’t get to sit with their noble fathers.
He’d always been relegated to the farthest table from the fire…and especially from Lady Basilia, who could never stand the sight of him. He would have been happier eating with the servants, but Lord Hugh loved to needle his wife by keeping him just close enough to distress her.
“Tell me more about this ghost.” There was a flicker of interest in Julia’s gaze as she took a seat at the high table. She always had loved spooky tales of ghosts and goblins. It was a relief to see a brief crack in her polished facade.
Eustace shrugged as he sat beside her. “There isn’t much to tell.
A knight tried to rise above his rank and elope with an earl’s daughter.
Her father caught them and had the man beheaded.
According to the tale, she perished soon after of a broken heart.
Ever since, the knight’s ghost has haunted the moors by night, seeking deadly vengeance on any who cross his path. ”
Galfrid did the best he could to blend into the wall, just as he had in his youth when he was trying to avoid the ire of Lady Basilia. He sympathized more than he wanted to with the old ghost’s plight. It was far too much like his own. Except that Lord Crispin would never behead him.
If Lord Crispin had been a vengeful, cruel liege lord, it would have been far easier to betray him and defy the Queen Dowager.
But if Galfrid ran away with Julia, Lord Crispin would have tried to protect them, risking the Queen Dowager’s ire, and Galfrid could never put his benefactor in that position.
Besides, what could he have offered Julia?
He loved her too much to subject her to a life of unending fear and secrecy.
It was for the best that he had refused her, even though his heart howled at the sight before him. It was too cruel that fate had given the half brother he loathed the woman he had loved without hope for years.
“If you ask me, that ghost got exactly what he deserved for stealing a noble lady like that.” Of course, Eustace would side with the father of the legend. “He should suffer for all eternity for his sins.”
“I think the knight was very brave to follow his heart. At least he and his lady perished knowing that their love was true.” Julia’s lovely blue eyes sparked with defiance as she spoke. Her words might have been directed to Eustace, but they drove a spear through Galfrid’s heart.
She was never going to forgive him for choosing her safety over her heart. But he couldn’t live with himself if she sacrificed everything to be with him. It was agony to endure, but it was the right thing to do, even if she couldn’t see it.
Eustace scowled. “I’m sorry to hear you feel that way, my lady. Far too many of my people would agree. They think this phantom is some kind of folk hero and hang iron horseshoes by their doors when they wish for his protection—usually from my sheriff or my tax collector. Superstitious nonsense.”
That was new. When Galfrid was a child, the ghost was an idle threat adults used to get children to eat their vegetables or go to bed on time.
Eustace must have been doing a very poor job of managing his lands if his vassals were invoking the ghost for protection against him and his minions.
Galfrid was liking this ghost more and more.
“But enough of this otherworldly nonsense. We must prepare for our nuptials. Agatha will lead you to a bedchamber where you may prepare yourself.” He gestured toward a gray-haired servant, who emerged from the dimness like an apparition. “We wed at sundown.”
Julia’s shoulders slumped. There was no escaping her fate now. Still, she glanced Galfrid’s way, the plea in her eyes unmistakable.
Galfrid squeezed his own eyes shut, barely able to contain the urge to steal her away that very moment, leaving the bloody trail of any who opposed him in his wake. This is for the best, he told himself over and over, until the sound of footsteps trailed off in the distance.
Opening his eyes again, he discovered he was alone with Eustace.
“Get out of my sight,” Eustace ordered with a wave of his hand.
“Tell me where my mother is buried. I wish to visit her grave.” This was the other reason he’d agreed to come to Knaresborough. He’d never said his goodbyes to the one person in Yorkshire who loved him.
“I have no idea. Do you think I bother with lowly matters like that? Go ask one of the servants, and be gone.” Eustace’s sneer accentuated the reptilian quality of his eyes.
“It is good to see you too, brother,” Galfrid said, to needle him.