Page 103 of Bold Angel
The winds at Malvern Castle blew fair. The sun shone on the fields and the crops grew robust. Stephen de Montreale surveyed his holdings from an open stained glass window, proud of his vast domain.
His serfs worked long hard hours, the bounty he reaped among the highest in the land. The castle was constructed of the finest Yorkshire stone, its walls and towers considered nearly impregnable. It was furnished in the richest tapestries and most expensive imported furniture. His table was set with silver instead of pewter or wood. His clothes were all as opulent as the royal blue silk tunic he wore, and fashioned in every design and color. They were trimmed with threads of spun silver and gold, and his cloaks were lined with ermine.
But for Stephen it was not enough.
He crossed the room and sat down across from his sister at the carved mahogany table. In a tunic of magenta shot with gold, her hair a gleaming dark mass pulled back from her face, Eliana leaned forward and squeezed his hand.
“Word has come, then?” she asked. “You know when the king’s man will pass?”
Stephen smiled with lazy satisfaction. “Aye, I know when de Balmain will come, and where.”
“And the Ferret?”
“Has gathered his men and even now awaits my command.”
“You are certain you can trusthim?”
“I trust no man—especially not that one. ’Tis only that I can supply him with the information he needs, while he”—his lip curled smugly—“he supplies me with half of his bounty. The trade so far has been a good one for both of us.”
“He has been raiding far north. Once he attacks the king’s men, Braxston will know of his return and once more set out to trap him.”
Stephen’s expression turned hard. “’Tis my wish exactly. I will have the king’s coin and see Braxston dead not long after. Even now there are those he trusts who would betray him. Once I know his plans, I will put an end to him. Blame will fall on him for the raid on the tax collector and the king’s missing silver. Then I will dispense with him and claim all he holds dear.”
Eliana arched a fine dark brow. “Including the wench he took to wife?”
“Especially her.” He brought his sister’s long-fingered hand to his lips. “We will share the bounty, you and I. As for the Lady Caryn… you have always been a woman of great imagination. Surely you can think of a way she might pleasure us both.”
Eliana’s tongue ran over her soft ruby lips. “She is pretty and well-formed, a vibrant young flower that has not yet bent to a man’s will—not even her husband’s. ’Twill be interesting to sample her nectar before her petals are crushed beneath the heel of your boot.”
Stephen’s wicked smile lingered. “’Tis good you are here, Eliana. ’Twill help to sweeten the pleasure of Braxston’s defeat.”
“’Tis good to be here, my love. I always knew the day would come you would make Lord Raolfe pay for the insult he dealt me.”
“The insult he dealt us both,” Stephen corrected. An image of his sister in bed with the huge dark Norman stirred at the back of his mind and pushed its way to thesurface.
She had seduced him on purpose, she said, done it to ensure there would be a marriage. The young knight could be easily handled, and they could go on as they were without fear of discovery. She was determined to protect her brother no matter the cost to herself.
She had done so that day in the monastery when he was nine years old. He had gone there to learn, but the learning held a bitter, knife-sharp edge. When Eliana had come with their stepmother for a visit, he had told her what had happened, as he wouldn’t have confessed to anyone else. With tears in his eyes, he had told her what the friar had made him do, the ugly, dirty things, and Eliana had held him fiercely while he cried.
She refused to leave him there, though their father’s new wife had insisted. Instead, she helped him climb out a window and together they made their escape. It took four long days to reach their home, hungry, dirty, ragged, and so tired they could barely remain on their feet.
It was Eliana who argued with their father, Eliana who convinced him, who saved Stephen from returning to a fate worse than death. She had sheltered him throughout the years, nurtured him in a way no other woman ever had.
Since he had become a man, things had changed and now it was he who protected her, he who guarded their secret.
It was he who loved her.
And Ral de Gere who had sullied her name and played her for a fool.
The Dark Knight had refused to honor their betrothal, humiliating her in front of their father, dishonoring her though he had sampled her charms more than once. It was Stephen who had helped to get rid of her unwanted child, Stephen who had sat at her bedside, fearful at her loss of blood, terrified she might die and certain it wasRal de Gere’s fault instead of his own. It was Stephen who had vowed revenge.
“Never fear, my sweet.” He turned her hand over and gently kissed the palm. “Braxston will pay and pay dearly for what he has done.”
Chapter Twenty
“There is trouble, Ral.” Caryn hurried toward him. “Men come from the village. Even now they are crossing the drawbridge.”
Caryn led him toward the huge oaken door and together they descended the stairs down to the bailey. A group of villagers, some armed with wooden shovels, some with iron-tipped hoes, led a huge blond, bearded man, chained both hand and foot, across the bridge and into the bailey.
