The Heiress Bride. Susan Paul

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      The big man surveyed Hugh’s muscular frame from head to foot, then replied in a surly tone, “None that I can’t take care of myself.” The two knights behind him laughed. “Leave us be.”

      Hugh smiled. “Good sir, you mistake me.” He pushed past him. “I addressed the lady.” He looked into her frightened face inquiringly. “Mistress,” he began, then stopped and held his breath. She was more beautiful than he had expected, more beautiful than any woman he’d seen in a long time. Not since Lillis had he met with such perfection. Without thinking, Hugh reached up to pull the hood of her cloak away from her head, causing her wheat blond hair to spill free and removing the shadows that hid her eyes… sky blue eyes that gazed at him, pleadingly.

      “Please, sir,” she whispered, “I pray you, help me.”

      With only those few words falling from her pretty lips, what had begun as a game for Hugh became something deadly serious.

      “God, she’s a greater beauty than you thought, Cyril,” one of the other knights said. “My turn comes after yours.”

      The girl’s eyes lit with fire. “I am not…” She didn’t seem to know how to finish. “I am not a…a…” Struggling against the knight who held her, she pleaded with Hugh once more. “Please, good sir. I beg you.”

      “I told you to lose yourself, man,” Cyril repeated in a tone full of warning.

      Ignoring him, Hugh gazed into the girl’s distressed face and tried to decide what it was about this situation that disturbed him. There was something here that wasn’t right. She was far too beautiful to be a whore. And she was pale, as if she were in pain, as if she might faint.

      “She doesn’t want you, Cyril, lad,” Hugh said slowly, “and a lady should always be given her choice, is this not so?” He graced the girl with his most charming smile. “What say you, mistress? Would you rather go with him or with me? I’m clean, I promise, and I’ll be gentle with you. I swear it on my own soul.”

      “Be gone!” Cyril shouted angrily.

      “You!” she cried.

      Hugh looked at the big knight. “You have your answer, Cyril, from the lady’s own lips. Now release her and be on your way, like the good and godly knight you are, else take your chances.”

      Cyril’s eyes narrowed. “You, man, are going to die!”

      Laughing, Hugh unsheathed his sword with an easy, fluid movement. “One day, yes,” he admitted, “but not this night.”

      Cyril freed the girl, and Hugh pulled her against himself, hearing her groan of pain and feeling the stiffening of her body.

      “Are you mad?” the other man demanded. “You are one against three! Do you seek death, then?”

      The sounds of Cyril’s fellow knights pulling out their swords was enough to bring silence to the crowded tavern.

      “Oh, please, please, good sirs,” the innkeeper begged to no avail, “don’t…don’t…”

      “The day I willingly seek death, Sir Knight, is the day the sun stops rising,” Hugh stated with bald confidence, his heavy sword dancing in the air as though it were a feather. “Especially at the hands of such a one as you, for, truth be told, I’d rather be devoured alive by swine.” He smiled pleasantly.

      Cyril gave an angry, animal sound and advanced on Hugh slowly.

      “Then I’ll make certain to toss your body into the wallow outside when I’ve finished with you,” he promised. “Now set the girl aside, fool, unless you mean to use her as a shield.”

      The insult flew over Hugh’s head; his heart was pounding too erratically for him to mind it. In another moment the hot pleasure of the fight would pour over him like some soothing drug. He would let himself be consumed by it, but before that happened he must send the girl to safety. He wasn’t even certain that she was still conscious; she felt lifeless in his grip, but that wasn’t his worry now. Later he would have no other care than her full awareness, and he would make certain that it was centered fully on himself, but now…now he wanted only to feel the sweet relief the coming fight would bring.

      “Take her, Pete,” he said, excitement shortening his breath. “Take her and keep her safe. When I’ve finished with good knight Cyril and his good knightly friends I’ll come to claim her, and God only knows how I’ll need her all in one piece.” Lifting his sword almost to the level of his chin, he smiled. “Now, sirs,” he murmured, “let us see who ends up in the wallow.”

       Chapter Two

      A soft, melodic sound drifted into Rosaleen’s dreams, beckoning her to wake. A lute, she thought dimly, her mind struggling to lift out of its sleepy stupor. Someone was playing a lute. And she was…where? In a room? Yes. Not her room at Castle Siere, but a room somewhere. Without opening her eyes she could sense light, the kind of light that meant day, and a gentle breeze caressed her shoulders and face. The bed she lay upon was firm and comfortable, the sheets were cool against her skin. Stretching, yawning, keeping her eyes closed, she snuggled into the mattress and tried to make sense of it all.

      Her memories were blurred, at best. She had been so very weary and in so much pain. The wounds on her back had felt hot as fire and had stung as though soaked with lime. The battle to keep going had been fierce, indeed. And then she had caught sight of the inn. What had she done with her horse? she wondered. She couldn’t recall whether she’d had enough sense to stable it or not, only that she had somehow dragged her aching body inside the smoky depths of the inn to request a room.

      The memory made Rosaleen frown. Aye, she had requested a room, and the innkeeper had given her a great deal of trouble. What was it he had said? Something about having to share her night’s profits with him? Whatever had the filthy creature meant? She hadn’t been able to make him understand that she only wanted a room, and when she had tried to explain it once more she’d been accosted by three lecherous brutes, one of whom had gone so far as to lay hands on her.

      Her memories after that became less clear. There had been a handsome stranger, with a handsome smile and handsome green eyes and handsome manners, who had come to her rescue, and then there had been only this. A comfortable bed, the taste of bitter medicine, a soothing of her pain, gentle hands caring for her…and dreams.

      Dreams, she thought hazily. Only dreams, and yet they had seemed so real. She could recall them vividly, as if she were dreaming them all over again. She could almost feel his hands and lips on her again, moving over her body, and she could hear his voice, soft, whispering. It had both unsettled and soothed her, just as he had…

      “You’re smiling, sweeting. That means you’re either dreaming of last night or you’ve finally come awake. Now, which is it, I wonder?”

      Rosaleen’s eyes flew open.

      “Ah, you’re awake. Good.”

      Warm breath touched her cheek. Rosaleen turned her head very slowly. There, smiling down at her, his face inches from her own, his arms like pillars on either side of her, was the handsome stranger.

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