Author K.L. Brown

Coming soon! A reason to wake

2012-01-26T21:28:00.000-08:00

Chapter One

London early summer 1236

Sarah sat contently on the cushioned seat in the stands, fanning herself as she looked out over the field and armor clad men who were filling her vision.

She felt her smile widen when her husband swiftly brought down his opponent, forcing the man to yield with very little effort on his part. Guy proudly sported the Kings colors as did half the men in the arena, but she knew for certain the man who was hers, for he wore her silken favor tied to his arm.

“Might I sit beside you?” a smooth voice came from behind.

Sarah turned her attention from the field for a second to gaze up at Robin of Milberk, greeting him with a bright smile. “Aye,” she answered, sliding to the side to make room for him.

Robin traveled with them to London and instantly formed a close bond with her husband. She'd known him no time at all. Even so, she could tell he was a good man. Robin seemed to be the sort of man her husband could rely on and trust.

“Why are you not on the field, Lord Milberk?” she asked when he sat down beside her.

“I thought it was best to remain in the stands this day,” Robin informed her, his dark brown eyes fixed intently on the melee before them.

“You are not a fighting man?” Sarah inquired, smiling brightly at her husband when he caught her eye for but a brief moment.

“I will admit that I enjoy the sport as well as any. It is my temper that keeps me in the stands.” Robin looked down at her beaming countenance freely, acknowledging the deep pride she held for her husband. It was a rare gift to love another so completely.

“Temper, you? I hardly believe it,” Sarah jested, brushing back a wayward strand of pale brown hair from her face, her eyes still locked on the field. It seemed to be growing warmer by the second. Even the rapid fluttering of her fan was useless against the unseasonable heat of mid-spring.

“Truly, my temper is one of my many faults,” Robin remarked, turning his eyes back to the field.

“I have not seen you as such a man. You have been nothing but gracious to myself and my husband. You must know that Guy thinks quite highly of you.”

“Perhaps he knows no better,” Robin mused, a half smile parting his lips. He was grateful for their friendship. They were a charming couple, seeming to be quite happy. They traveled with the court as Guy of Artois seemed indispensable to the King. Even Sarah was welcomed with opened arms even though it was known far and wide that her family was not a strong supporter of the crown.

“How long will you reside in London?” he questioned, clapping his hands with approval when the knights opposing the King's colors gained ground over their opposition.

“For the season. My husband has promised to take me to Mowbray in the fall so I might visit my parents.” She clapped vigorously in favor of her knight, her smile never wavering even though the King's victory was being threatened. “And you, how long will you be with us?”

“Only a matter of days, I am needed at Milberk. Mowbray is not terribly far out of my way. I might deliver any messages you would have for your kin,” Robin offered, scowling at the dust ridden field, thankful he was not apart of the melee. The weather had turned suffocating hot, causing the dirt on the trampled ground to rise up in a cloud of rich, thick dust that was beginning to mare the view of those who where looking on from the stands.

“How kind of you,” Sarah answered, “I could never refuse such an offer.” She shifted in her seat, struggling to keep her sights fixed on her husband. He was growing weary; she could tell by the way he was moving that something was amiss. Even so Guy stood his ground, fighting alongside his comrades as the sweltering heat beat down upon them.

“How long has it been since you visited your parents?” Robin asked smoothly. He looked for a moment to the King’s box, surely his majesty would soon call an end to this. It was not safe to fight in such horrid conditions. His majesty only continued to look on, clearly waiting for his men to have the upper hand before he called for the melee to cease.

“I returned once after I was married, two years ago. Miles, my brother, has been married since and I have not yet had the pleasure of meeting his wife.” Her smile faded as she watched her husband continue to struggle on the field.

It was not like Guy to push the limits of his abilities. The dust was rising up so thick she could scarcely see him. He was surrounded by a group of knights, only one of whom wore the King’s colors.

“Yield,” she breathed when he stumbled. She pushed to her feet when her view was obstructed by the man who sat before her. “I cannot see him,” Sarah announced to Robin who was standing by her side, his dark brows furrowed as he searched the cloud of dust before them.

The displeasure of the crowd rang out around them when the plume of dust grew so thick the fighting could hardly be seen. It was then Sarah saw Guy lying on the ground. It was her husband, she was sure of it for he wore her favor on his arm. Godwin was kneeling beside him, his helmet cast aside as he struggled to rouse his friend.

“No…no,” Sarah whispered in disbelief, leaving her place in the stands, pushing her way through the pressing crowds, hardly aware that Robin was running after her.

“My Lady Artois! Sarah, wait!” he called when she reached the stairs and he realized she was intending to make her way onto the field.

Sarah reached the bottom step and was about to duck under the rail when Robin reached out and ceased her arm, pulling her to a stop.

“You must wait, my Lady,” he urged, looking past her to where Godwin and Guy’s squire were bent over her husband.

Sarah struggled against his hold, watching in agony from afar. Guy never moved, not for all the efforts being made to rouse him.

“Let go of me, I beg you,” she pleaded, blinking back the emotion threatening to consume her.

“It is far too dangerous,” Robin answered, knowing that while men continued to fight she could be hurt.

“He is my husband, Sir, it will be he who commands me to leave his side, not you!” she yelled. She wrenched her arm free and ducked under the rail before Robin had the chance to stop her.

Sarah ran across the field, her wildly thumping heart drowning out the deafening sounds around her.

“Guy,” she murmured, falling to her knees beside him.

“Sarah, this is no place for you,” Godwin chided, scowling at her.

“Guy?” she pleaded, ignoring Godwin’s protests as she struggled to free her husband from his helmet. “Can you hear me?” She finally managed to remove his helmet and took his dust-streaked face between her hands, longing for him to acknowledge her. “Why will he not wake?” she screamed, looking him over for hurts, her hands stopping their search when her eyes took in a trail of blood seeping into the dirt beside him.

“Sarah, you must go,” Godwin pleaded, his eyes falling to Robin when he came to stand behind her. “Take her from this place!” Godwin ordered briskly.

“Guy! You must wake, I beg you,” Sarah cried. Her fists clutched the front of his armor, her heart refused to accept what her eyes were seeing. “Do not leave me, not now,” she pleaded, bending to rest her head on his chest, longing to feel it rise and fall as she had so many times.

She lifted her head to look down on his face. She brushed his cheek and kissed his lips as her heart broke within her. He was gone, she knew it, and yet her heart refused to listen.

“Why?” she suddenly screamed as her helplessness and loss consumed her. For the last three years Guy had been her life. She only just discovered that she carried their child. He could not leave her now, not when all they longed for was given to them.

“Sarah, you must come with me,” Robin urged, kneeling down beside her.

“He never knew,” she cried, giving into Robin's hands when he pulled her to her feet.

“Come with me.” Robin turned her from her husband, leading her back the way she’d come. He felt her body tremble as she walked beside him, and tightened the hold he had about her waist, fearful she would collapse.

This was not what she deserved. This was not what fate should have dealt a couple who were as happy as they.

Chapter Two

Madison stood in the solar looking out over the yard below. Liam left before sunrise to take his hawk for a hunt. Usually she would have gone with him, but today she felt like seeing to herself. It had been a long while since she had a quiet moment to reflect over her life and the happiness she was given. There were sad times over the years as well as happy, but they pushed through them together and were stronger because of it.

Her eldest, Miles, had stumbled across a fine woman who he made his wife and was now quite happy. Their daughter Sarah was now in London, soon to come home. She was blessed indeed.

“Lady,” Nell called from the corridor, obviously searching for her mistress.

“In here Nell,” Madison answered, her gaze still fixed out the window.

“I have been looking for you everywhere, I thought for a moment you had changed your mind and ventured out with your husband,” Nell remarked when she came to stand by the window.

“No, I just needed a bit of time by myself, that’s all.” Madison brushed a fading red curl from her face and turned to look at her lady's maid.

“It is a beautiful day,” Nell beamed before passing a folded length of parchment to her mistress.

“I thought you were journeying to Norick to visit your children?” Madison asked, looking over the missive that was addressed to both herself and her husband. The name was unfamiliar to her, Robin of Milberk, perhaps Liam knew who this man was.

“I am, I'm leaving as we speak. Are you certain you can spare me for a fortnight?” Nell asked, raising her brow in question.

“Yes, this will be your first grandchild. I can spare you for longer if only you promise to return. I don’t know what I would do without you,” Madison informed her before reaching out to give Nell a brief hug. Nell was much more than her lady's maid; she was a friend and had been since before Madison married Liam. Nell was with her through nearly every trial; she knew a great deal about her lady’s past secrets and was loyal to a fault.

“I promise to return. You might find it difficult to believe, but I am quite fond of you,” Nell pulled away, grateful for Madison's friendship. Nell knew her life would never have been the same without her.

“Get upon the road, and tell those children of yours if they are weary of being in my son's service, they are welcome to return with you. It is a horrible thing to be separated from your children and now that you have a grandchild of your own, it will be all the more difficult.”

“I will, and I will see the gifts you sent to your own grandchildren delivered,” Nell promised before turning to leave.

“Safe journey,” Madison called after her, then looked again to the letter she held, her brows furrowing into a scowl. She was certain she didn’t know this man, but if that were the case why would he address the missive to both of them.

Madison picked at the seal with the tip of her nail. She should wait for Liam, they should read this together. She left the solar and made her way to their chamber and sat in the alcove to watch for him out the window. Surely he could not be much longer.

It was a good hour later when Liam and the men he took with him rode through the gates. Madison couldn’t help but smile in spite of herself. Time changed him. Liam was no longer the young man he was when first they met, but he was still her charming Liam. His hair was streaked with gray and soft worry lines brushed across his brow, smile lines creased the corners of his eyes and she would not have him any other way.

Madison watched Liam dismount, pass his hawk over to the falconer, then make his way to the keep. She turned and looked to the door, waiting for the sound of his footsteps in the corridor.

Moments later, just as she anticipated, she could hear him making his way to their chamber. Madison felt a smile spread across her lips when the latch lifted and Liam stepped into the room.

“My wife, I thought I would find you here,” Liam informed her, crossing the distance to where she sat.

“Did you now?” Madison teased, taking in the windblown scent of him as he kissed her. “How was your morning?”

“It would have been better if you were by my side,” he assured her.

“You have already won my love, you have no need to lie. I know you enjoy your morning hunts with your men, otherwise you would have returned hours ago.”

“Not true,” Liam muttered, even though he knew she spoke truth.

“Then, my darling, why is it that when I go with you, we return in time to break our fast with the rest of the keep?” Madison asked, poking him in the chest with her finger.

“If you must know, you hunt like a woman,” Liam remarked with a wide grin.

“Maybe that’s because I am one. Give me a sword and I will beat you any day, ask me to use my skills on a defenseless animal and that’s a whole other story,” she informed him for the thousandth time.

“Madison, you eat meat do you not?” Liam asked, knowing he would gain nothing with this conversation.

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean I have to think about my meal frolicking through the forest.”

“Oh wife of mine. I will never understand you,” he mused, pulling her to her feet and into his arms.

“Good, it’s my duty to keep you on your toes.” Madison wrapped her arms around his neck, loving the way it felt to be in his arms.

“Then you fulfill your duty well,” Liam assured her before kissing her on the tip of her nose. “What have you in your hand?” he questioned, pulling back to retrieve what she held out to him.

“This arrived while you were away. Do you know this man Liam?” she asked, sitting beside him on the bench in the alcove.

“I do not. I am familiar with Milberk, but not with Robin personally.” He pulled open the seal and held the missive out so they could read what was written together.

Lord and Lady Mowbray,

I am aware that we have never been formally introduced, even so, I write to you in all urgency. I regret to inform you that Guy of Artois, the husband of your daughter, has perished during a melee.

I became acquainted with your daughter and her husband on my recent journey to London and am greatly aggrieved with the current events. I have never seen a happier couple in all my days. It is a lamented loss to be sure.

You must surely know of your daughter’s distress. I will soon be leaving for Milberk and have convinced your daughter to accompany me. She needs her family. Any comfort I have to offer her at this horrid time is greatly lacking. We will leave as soon as she is well to travel. I believe we will arrive at Mowbray in less than a month. My party will take the southern road if you have a care to meet us.

You have my most solemn oath that I will look after your daughter and make all haste to bring her to her family.

Your faithful servant,

Robin of Milberk

They sat in silence looking at the careful writing on the page as though if they stared at it long enough, it might change before their eyes.

“Liam?” Madison whispered, her throat so constricted she could barely speak. She had only just been counting her blessings and was so thankful for everything they were given. “How can this be?”

“I know not,” Liam answered, unable to pull his eyes from the missive for fear he missed some vital bit of information. “We must send for Miles, he must know. He must be here.” Liam dropped his hands to his lap, knowing he must rise and make the necessary arrangements, but all he could do was sit and feel as though a bit of the ground had been pulled out from beneath him.

“I should be there,” Madison muttered, her voice filled with her tears. “She shouldn’t have to suffer this alone.”

“She will be here soon,” Liam assured her, pulling his beloved wife into his arms his own tears streaming down his face. “Our prayers will be with her until we can hold her in our arms.”

* * * * *

Sarah stood in the yard, looking to nothing while Godwin tried to convince her to stay. She'd grown weary of his pleading, but couldn't help but pity the man for trying to look after his departed friend's wife.

“You know nothing of this man, Sarah. You know not his intentions. I do not see why you will not wait until I can accompany you in the fall?” Godwin ranted, holding tightly to her arm as she waited for her carriage.

“I cannot wait until the fall, Godwin. I have told you this,” Sarah whispered, struggling to keep her wits about her.

“Then summon your family to you,” he suggested, knowing it would never be.

“You know the King would not permit my father within ten feet of him,” Sarah snapped. She knew Godwin was only looking out for her, but all she wanted was to be with her family. She didn’t care how she made her way to Mowbray, it only mattered that she was away from here.

“I do not trust him, Sarah,” Godwin informed her when her carriage pulled into the yard accompanied by her stern faced escort.

“I know, but Guy trusted him, Godwin, and now I must trust him as well,” Sarah nearly sobbed, patting Godwin's hand that gripped her arm. “I cannot stay here, not when this is where my husband was taken from me.”

“Then I wish you all speed in your journey. I will travel to Mowbray as soon as I am able,” Godwin promised.

“You are a true friend,” Sarah praised, smiling weakly at him before he helped her into the carriage, then stepped aside to allow her maid to do the same.

Godwin looked to where Robin sat on the back of his prancing mount, his distrust with the man coursing through his veins. “She is the widow of a great man, have a care not to forget that in your travels.”

“I will see her safely to her kin, you need not have fear of me,” Robin assured him. He struggled not to glare at the man before turning his mount to the gate, leading his party with him.

The Godwin Robin knew and the man who befriended Guy were two vastly different men.

Robin knew he would be more at ease when their party was well outside the city walls and Godwin's prying eyes.

Sarah gazed out the window of the carriage, offering Godwin a brief wave. All she wanted was to go home. The week she passed alone after Guy's death was the longest week of her life. Everything was a blur, her husband was buried, his affairs were put in order. His belongings were packed and sent to Artois. She remembered very little of the instruction given to her and cared even less at this particular moment. She just wanted to go home.

She was indeed grateful to Robin. He stepped up where Godwin only attempted to convince her to stay until he could escort her to her parent's keep. At first she allowed him to sway her into staying, but when Robin approached her with the offer to take her to Mowbray, she couldn’t refuse him.

No one save her maid knew of the child she carried, and now after the events of late, she found it difficult to rejoice in the telling of her news. This babe was the only thing she had left of her dear husband. How could she possibly speak of something so sacred?

She leaned her head back and closed her eyes, attempting to keep her tears from falling. Guy never knew, she thought of telling him the morning of the tournament, but she only wanted to be certain before she shared news they both longed for.

For near two years they desired to conceive, but were never blessed with a child and now that their dreams were fulfilled, she would be forced to carry her joy alone.

Hours later, Robin eased the small party to a stop near the river, dismounted and passed his horse to his squire. They'd been traveling for a good part of the morning. Midday was nearly upon them, surely the women would be in need of stretching their legs.

“Lady Artois?” Robin called out as he approached the carriage. “Would you care to walk a bit as we rest the horses?” he inquired, pulling open the carriage door.

“I would, thank you.” Sarah took his hand and made her way to the ground, tipping her head up to the sunlight for a moment before offering him a weak smile. She was terribly pale to his eyes, nearly looking as though she was ill.

“Are you well, madam?” Robin questioned, his concern for her well-being thick in his voice.

“Aye, I only need a bit of fresh air. Louisa, would you kindly bring me something to eat?” Sarah asked, sending her maid in the direction of the supply wagon. “Excuse me,” she whispered as she pushed past Robin, determined to keep to her own.

Robin watched her for a moment as she wandered toward the river. He took in the hand she pressed to her temples, as the other seemed to rub at her throat. She was lying when she told him she was well, a blind man could see that she was not herself.

On the road to London, he’d seen her for who she truly is a miraculous woman, full of spirit and laughter. She rode as well as her husband, refusing to be confined to the carriage. He knew her husbands passing was a cruel blow, but now Sarah seemed even worse off than when they left this morning.

Robin kept his eye on her until the maid was by her side, and then turned to make his way back to his men. Perhaps he should not have pressed her to leave London so quickly. Perhaps she was better off where she was. In the depths of his mind he knew he was right, Sarah needed her family, she needed those who cared about her the most surrounding her. She couldn’t wait until the fall, not when she was hurting now.

“Would you have something to eat, master Robin?” Tomas asked, nodding his pale head at him as he approached. The boy had been his squire now for a good year. They were well matched the two of them, and Robin found on more than one occasion he was grateful for the boy.

“Nay lad,” Robin answered with a slight smile. He knew no other who could eat as Tomas could. Where he put the enormous amounts of food he devoured, Robin would never know.

The lad was short and stout, but hardly looked as one who overate. “Easy Tomas,” Robin chided when his squire consumed his lunch in a bite and a half. “Our supplies must last us to Milberk.”

“Aye,” Tomas laughed, pushing to his feet to see to his master’s mount. “How is Lady Artois?” Tomas inquired while he checked the animal’s gear.

“Melancholy,” Robin replied, keeping a watchful eye on the two women in the distance.

“I hate to see her thus,” Tomas continued, walking around to the opposite side of the beast.

“As do I.”

“Perhaps she might like to ride, she has her horse, my Lord. Mayhap that would lift her spirits some,” Tomas suggested.

“I do not think it will be as easy as that, but I’m sure she would appreciate your kind thought. Let us be on our way,” Robin called out to his men.

He made his way back to the carriage to speak with Sarah before they were once again on the road.

Robin helped her maid mount the steps, then took hold of Sarah’s hand and turned her to face him. He longed to ease her pain in anyway he could, even if it was passing along his squire’s suggestion.

“Would you wish to ride for while?” Robin asked, taking in the sickly pallor of her skin and the hollow depths of her pale blue eyes.

“My thanks, but I am well enough in the carriage,” Sarah assured him.

“As you wish, but if at any moment you should change your mind, inform me.” He watched her nod before she turned and made her way into the carriage.

There was something about her that was changed, something more than the shock and sorrow of losing her husband.

My Lady Witch

2012-01-26T21:14:00.000-08:00

Chapter One

England present day,

Madison gripped the straightening iron and slowly pulled it down her remaining lock of bouncing, red curls, taming the uncontrollable mass, and finally achieving the desired look. She gazed into the hotel’s wide bathroom mirror, taking in her pale complexion and attempted to evaluate her life, all nineteen years of it.

They hadn’t all been bad, had they?

She shrugged out of her overlarge pajamas and pulled on her boring black suit. A long sleeved jacket that she wore over a plain white, button down blouse, with a mid-length black skirt. Considering where she was headed this afternoon, her drab attire was, in fact, quite appropriate.

She, along with her father, arrived in England two days earlier to attend her estranged grandmother’s funeral. Today they were to meet with the old woman’s attorney. Madison was more than positive that if it wasn’t for the woman’s millions, her father would have been content to remain at home in the states, sinking deeper into his present addiction.

Madison sat carefully on the edge of the tub to pull on her favorite pair of black heels. They were misery for the toes, but oh how she loved the way they made her feet look so petite. She paused a moment to admire the delicate angel wing tattoo on her left ankle, a small smile parting her lips. It was a moment of teen-age rebellion. A reminder of a time in her life when all she wanted was to be heard. She could still hear her mother’s voice echoing in her ears. “You’ll regret it Maddy, maybe not today, but one day you’ll regret it.”

Her smile faded. Two years later, her mother packed her bags and left without so much as a goodbye or a second look over her shoulder. It had been a shock to Madison and it sent her alcoholic, arrogant father into an even faster downward spiral that left them in their present state: barely speaking and nearly bankrupt. Her once tolerable father was now a man that she cared little to know, let alone to inform others he was related.

He was so obsessed with his drink, he rarely had time to see to his daughter’s needs. He’d even tried to pawn his burden off on his mother, only to be quickly refused. Her grandmother’s refusal was more of a rejection to Madison who’d prayed that her grandmother, would be kind enough to offer her only grandchild the coveted home her father could never provide. The old woman’s denial broke Madison’s heart and left her feeling unwanted and rejected by the only family she had left.

When the news arrived of her grandmother’s death, along with the summons to England from the old woman’s attorney, it left Madison terribly confused. Her father, on the other hand, nearly jumped for joy. She knew there was no love lost between her father and his aristocratic mother, he simply knew his mother had million’s and they must go somewhere. As he was the only heir, he figured his mother’s fortune would fit nicely in his empty pockets.

Madison rolled her eyes in annoyance at her father’s fist banging on the door, telling her, in his own subtle way, to hurry it up.

She looked again to the mirror and stared at her pale reflection. She looked so much like her mother it was almost scary. The same pale skin, a soft dusting of freckles across her stubby nose, light blue eyes, and a mass of long, thick curly red hair that always seemed to have a mind of it’s own.

The similarities made her shudder, and caused her to think maybe this was why she felt she had to straighten her bouncy locks in hope that maybe, just maybe, if she could alter her appearance in even the slightest way, her father wouldn’t despise her for reminding him daily of the woman he’d driven away.

Madison blinked at the woman in the mirror and wanted nothing more than to ask her why she left her daughter behind to be raised by a man who could barely take care of himself. It was a stupid question that would never be answered, so she put it behind her, straightened her suit and told herself she would be the woman she longed to be. If only she could find that courageous, beautiful woman hiding behind her self doubt and sorrow?

She pulled her eyes from her reflection and reached across the counter to retrieve her black leather bag. She pulled open it’s zipperless mouth and peered down at her belongings. Everything from candy to sleeping pills, CD player with a few personalized CD’s, cell phone, wallet, her passport and a bit of make up. She hated to travel and having everything she needed at her fingertips put her nerves at ease.

“Maddy I’m leaving now, with or without you.” Her father’s voice boomed through the door, a slight slur to his bellowing words. It was only midmorning and he was already drinking, a confirmation to her of how serious his addiction had become.

Madison sprayed her neck with a bit of perfume, threw the bottle into the bag then slung it over her shoulder and straightened her frame.

“Two weeks,” she whispered to herself. “Two weeks is all you need.” She’d managed to find the perfect school and the perfect scholarship that would help pay for most of tuition and give her the freedom her soul needed from her fathers disturbing presence. He’d made fun of her for choosing dance as a major and told her that no school would want her. Nonetheless she’d been accepted and celebrated her victory alone. But heaven help her to endure just two more weeks.

* * * * *

Madison sat in a rather uncomfortable chair, wide-eyed and barely breathing as her future was laid out before her. The attorney’s mouth was moving, but the words he spoke were unbelievable.

The small round little man dismissed her father completely, causing him to fume in the corner, sipping some drink from a small flask he concealed inside his jacket pocket. He did very little to mask his anger, as everything that should have gone to him was placed neatly in his daughter’s lap. It was unbelievable!

A good hour later, Madison tried to remain calm as she crossed the parking lot to their rented car. A black, gold trimmed folder stuffed full of important documents clutched tightly to her chest with both arms.

It must be a dream, she would never want for anything ever again. She could attend college and not have to worry about how she would ever come up with the money to pay for it. Best of all, she would never have to live under her father’s roof again.

It was then that she noticed her father stumbling across the parking lot, barely managing to remain on his feet.

“Dad?” Madison quickened her pace, placed an arm about her father’s waist to steady him before he toppled over. He thanked her by shoving her aside to lean his swaying frame against the driver’s side of the car.

“I don’t need your help, or anyone’s, your highness.” His gave his daughter a disgusted look, followed by a failed attempt at a bow before reaching deep in his pocket for his keys.

Madison pushed aside his hateful words and reached out a shaking hand for the exposed keys.

“Why don’t you let me drive?” She almost had the keys from her father’s grasp when he backhanded her smartly across the cheek, the coveted keys he held in his fist jingled with the sudden, violent movement.

An instant burn traveled up her face and into her eyes, causing them to well up with tears, not so much from the pain, but from who inflicted it. How could he have sunk this low?

“You don’t want to ride with me that’s fine, you can find your own way.” He yanked the door open abruptly and slumped into the driver’s seat of the car. She stood rubbing her cheek, staring at the man inside the car. He was fumbling with the keys as he tried to put them into the ignition.

Every emotion from hate to pity, welled up within her and in the end, all she could think of was that he was her father. As much as she hated him he was still, and always would be, her family. She couldn’t let him go alone.

She fought back her tears and crossed to the passenger side of the car. Her head screamed at her to just let him be, but her heart wouldn’t allow her to listen to logic. No matter what he’d become, and how she’d grown to despise him, he was the only family she had left. She pulled open the passenger door and climbed numbly into the car.

He fumbled with the keys a minute longer before finally managing to put the car in motion. He turned away from the city and soon they were driving along in silence down a deserted country lane.

Madison slipped off her black heels and stretched her aching feet. She rested her burning cheek against the cool window and closed her eyes, wishing suddenly to be anywhere but where she was. Her father pressed down on the gas and the rental car responded with an added jolt of speed. He was angry and determined to take his frustrations out on the road.

She focused in on her thoughts, trying to think of anything but the scenery speeding by outside her window. In two weeks she would be dancing, she would be happy doing what she loved. She’d started ballroom dancing classes a year before her mother abandoned them. All too soon, what was once an extra circular activity turned into her passion and a much-needed escape from the chaos of her world.

She’d found a job that would work around her dancing schedule and free her selfish father from the obligation of supporting his daughter.

The car fishtailed violently when he turned onto a dirt road, shocking Madison out her thoughts. It was growing dark and she wondered if her father knew where he was going, and better yet, if he cared.

She pulled her eyes from the fading sky to look down at the gold trimmed folder she held in her hands and found herself contemplating if it was worth it. Was this wealth, which was given to her, worth this? She’d lost her mother because of her father’s greed and arrogance. Did she truly want to lose what was left of her family over money?

She was the last of the Cunningham line, she had no other family, nothing but what was in this car, recklessly speeding down some dusty country lane.

“You must think yourself a lucky girl,” he slurred, then took a corner faster than Madison would have liked.

“What?” she asked, clutching her bag to her chest, fearing she’d made a horrible mistake when she got into the car.

“Don’t play stupid. What did you do to get the old hag to leave everything to you? The granddaughter she hardly knew!” He sped around another corner, nearly running off the road. It was growing dark and the desolate winding road was becoming narrower by the second.

She could only look at him in disbelief. It was his fault that she never knew her grandparents. He was too stubborn to forgive the woman for some past wrong. Madison wanted to know his parents but he denied her the opportunity.

“I didn’t do anything!” Madison flinched when he swerved to miss a large rock in the road. “Slow down, do you want to kill us?” she screamed, but her father only huffed and pressed down further on the gas.

“You’re conniving and sadistic just like your mother.” Madison heard his harsh words, but she also heard the crack of emotion in his voice. He loved her mother, but his arrogance and drunken temper finally drove her away. And for some reason, he couldn’t see that he wasn’t the only one who lost someone they loved. She would have done anything to convince her mother to stay or to take her along. It was a pity her father never seemed to care about anything or anyone but himself.

“You don’t mean that,” she responded, his hateful words etching their way into her heart, her pale eyes burning with grief.

“She took me for everything I had, then disappeared leaving me to clean up the mess.” Madison watched the trees fly by and remembered it was her mother who tried to keep the family afloat while her husband sunk deeper and deeper into his addiction. Her mother tried until she couldn’t try anymore.

She looked again down at the folder on her lap, suddenly deciding that, she too, was tired of trying to please a man who would never give in return. She was done, she would go to school and do what she loved and wouldn’t look back. She had a bright future awaiting her, she only needed to reach out and take it.

“I don’t want it.” She placed the gold trimmed folder on her father’s lap and turned her attention back to clutching her bag.

Her father looked down at the folder lying neatly in his lap and then to his daughter. “You think this will fix everything, giving me what should have been mine in the first place?” She could feel his eye’s boring into the side of her head, but she kept her focus on the passing trees.

“No, but I will live my life knowing that I did the right thing,” she whispered, a single tear making its way down her cheek. It was done. She would say goodbye to the man who had once been her father and move on with her life. It wouldn’t be easy, but it would be her own.

“You think you’re so perfect, don’t you?” His words were full of a contempt she never knew could exist between father and daughter. She slouched down in her seat, once again, wishing to be anywhere but confined to the car with her raging father.

Those words of hatred were the last thing she heard before the car spun out of control and struck a tree, sending her world into darkness.

Madison lay on her back, on the thick undergrowth of the forest and attempted to take inventory of her aching limbs. Her pounding head clouded her thoughts and she had to force herself to concentrate.

She moved one leg and then the other and then attempted the same task with her arms. The right obeyed but the left burned with even the slightest movement. She turned her pounding head to examine the damage and immediately wished she hadn’t. The sleeve of her jacket was shredded into nearly nothing, revealing a deep gash running up the length of her arm.

She groaned and did her best to shove the image aside. She’d never been good with blood, especially when it was her own.

She needed to get to her feet and find her father, hopefully he was no worse off than she was and they would be able to call for help.

Madison pushed herself up with her good arm and sat for a moment, fighting to clear her head. The sun had faded from the sky, washing her surroundings in a dim, hazy glow.

She rose slowly to her knees and finally managed to get to her feet. She turned in the direction of the car and gasped. It was hardly recognizable; the bulk of the frame was wrapped around the trunk of a massive tree just off the side of the road. From what she could tell, her father was still inside the vehicle.

Her head protested again, causing her to return to her knees. She would have to go to her father later, right now she needed to find her cell phone and call for help before her damaged head refused to cooperate. Once her vision cleared she looked around the thick undergrowth for her bag. She knew it had been in her arms when they crashed so it must be around here somewhere.

Finally, she spotted her bag lying in the distance, resting at the base of the scariest tree she’d ever seen. It’s gnarled and twisted branches stretched out in all directions, like numerous monster arms reaching out, wishing to snatch the stars from the heavens. No leaves seemed to dare sprout on the limbs, leaving it bare and ghostly, looming over her in the darkness.

She pulled her eyes from the disturbing branches and carefully crawled to where her bag lay at the base of the tree. She turned and rested her weary body against the trunk of tree, placing the bag on her lap.

Her poor head wanted nothing more than for her to lie down and give into sleep but she knew she must stay awake. If she gave in, there was a good chance she would never wake up.

She rested her head against the tree and closed her eyes for a moment, only a moment, breathing deeply to summon the strength she needed to continue. Her heart fluttered and a stiff breeze lifted her hair and then it was quiet.

A quick search of her bag produced her phone, she quickly dialed for help with shaking fingers and waited, nothing. She dialed again, still nothing.

“Stupid piece of junk,” she mumbled as she threw the phone to the ground and pulled herself up. She would have to find her father’s phone. Hopefully it was still in working condition.

She looked up to judge the distance she would have to cross to the car and could only stare in disbelief. Her stunned fingers released the hold they had on her belongings, discarding them, carelessly to the ground.

It was gone: the car and the tree the vehicle had smashed into. Everything, even the gravel road was replaced by a narrow dirt lane that was barely wide enough for a single car. She stumbled forward through the darkness. It was impossible, how could it be here one moment then gone the next.

“Breathe Maddy, breathe,” she told herself.

She staggered to the center of the narrow lane and turned about in a circle as if doing so might produce the mangled car and the gravel road, she knew had been there only seconds ago.

She stood frozen in the center of the lane, dazed and confused, as something warm began to run down her forehead and into her eyes. Madison wiped at her head and pulled her hand back to examine it. Blood covered her fingers and the palm of her hand. That was all she needed to give into the will of her body and collapsed right there in the dirt.

Chapter Two

England, 1199

Liam put spur to his horse, leading his men down the darkening lane at a wild pace. His mother’s messenger arrived just as the sun began it’s descent on the horizon. He instantly organized a handful of his garrison and left his keep before the messenger his mother sent had time to finish his news. His father, Vallon of Norick, was dying.

He swallowed the ache in his throat and pushed his horse on. He’d been away from home far too long, and now he prayed that he wasn’t too late.

Liam had known his father was ill, but he wanted more than anything to complete the castle and put everything back in order before he returned to his parent’s home.

All the attention he’d put on the upgrades to the keep and outer walls had wrought havoc upon his tenants and his surrounding land, everything was in disarray. He’d been so focused on the renovations being made that he hadn’t realized he was neglecting other matters that were just as important as honoring a promise to his father.

Ever since Liam was a child, he’d wanted nothing more than to have his father look on him with praise in his eyes and congratulate him for a job well done. When Liam took possession of Norick, he promised the man he would make it as grand as it had been when his great grandfather built it. His keep was now completed, it was as he promised it would be. But now that his father lay dying, it all seemed for naught. This work had kept him from his family and that was time that could never be replaced.

The sun had set, casting the dense forest into shadow. Ghostly shapes appeared in the closely clustered trees and haunting shadows swam across the thick undergrowth.

“Lord Norick, there in the distance.” Ayden’s eyes were as good as gold, even in the darkness. Liam was indeed grateful for the lad, he was a loyal squire and in no time at all, if he would but assert himself, he would make an honorable knight.

Liam squinted and soon saw what alerted the boy. Something, or someone, lay in the road just ahead. He lifted his arm, silently telling his men to slow their horses and take heed of their surroundings.

“Look to the trees,” Liam’s steady voice rang out through the night. Once the mound came closer into view he realized it was a body lying in the road. “Ayden, stay with me.” Liam drew rein a good distance from the motionless figure, he dismounted, and was followed instantly by his squire.

His heart raced as they approached the body, it could be an ambush. The roads weren’t safe to travel. He knew he was taking a risk traveling after dark, but his men were well trained and equally well armed, and it was a risk he was willing to take to reach his father in time.

As they approached, the body began to take shape. It appeared to be a woman. She was dressed in odd black clothing, her gown falling just below her knees. Her feet were bare, and straight as a stick flame red hair adorned her head, crowning the palest skin he’d ever seen. A deep red gash running across her forehead was the only offence that marred her otherwise prefect features. In the dirt, beside her wounded arm, a pool of blood had begun to gather on the ground.

Liam pulled his heavy cloak from his shoulders, tore a good length from the bottom of the garment and bound it tightly around her bleeding arm, securing the wound until it could be properly tended.

“Think you it was an ambush, my Lord?” Ayden kept his eyes on the trees as he spoke, his hand gripping the hilt of his sword.

“Aye.”

“Do you know her, my Lord?” Ayden inquired.

“Nay,” Liam continued to answer the lad’s questions while his mind began swarming with those of his own. Where were her kin? Surely she would not be left alone to fend for herself against whomever it was that attacked her.

“Do you wish to return to the keep?” Ayden was staring at the woman, a bewildered look fixed to his young face.

“Nay, there is a monastery a short distance up the road, surely they will take her in.” He wrapped his ruined cloak around the unconscious woman and lifted her into his arms.

“She is strangely dressed, my Lord,” Ayden observed out loud what Liam already knew, he then ran to keep up with his master’s long strides.

Liam ignored his squire and looked to his men who had returned from their search and were ready to be on their way.

“Anything?” He looked to Peter who sat atop his horse gazing down at the woman Liam held in his arms.

“Nay, my Lord. Not so much as a broken blade of grass.” Peter slung his battleaxe over his shoulder, as was his habit, and continued to stare at the lady, a bewildered look playing across his weather-hardened, bearded face. Peter had been Liam’s captain and friend for as long as anyone cared to remember. He was a good ten years older than his master and had more life experience than anyone Liam knew, save his father.

Liam placed the woman into his squire’s arms and mounted his waiting horse then reached down to reclaim his burden.

“She smells powerfully strange, my Lord.” Ayden sniffed at the woman as he handed her up to his master’s waiting arms.

“Stop your chatter, and get upon your mount,” Liam chided, settling the woman on his lap. She did smell strange, not bad, but it was a scent he wasn’t accustomed to and had no name for. He took in the scent again and decided that it was, in fact, quite pleasant. He shook his head to clear his thoughts and waited for Ayden to be settled on his mount before he gave the signal to leave.

Stopping at the monastery would slow him greatly. His parent’s keep was a hard day’s ride from Norick and if what his mother’s messenger said was true, his father might not last the night.

He looked down at the woman in his arms and found himself scowling at her. It wasn’t that he was angry with her for slowing his progress, but because of the slight stirring she caused in his soul. It was as if he knew her from somewhere, but for the life of him, he couldn’t place the strange feeling.

She was like no other woman he’d ever seen, the glow to her skin, the shine to her hair. Just looking down at her abused body made him want to find who had dared assault her and see that life abruptly extinguished.

Hours later Liam deposited the woman at the monastery, even though a nagging thought, deep inside his being, told him to take her onto Mowbray and see her looked after by his mother’s healer. The lack of precious time made the decision for him. Carrying an unconscious woman to his parents keep would only hinder him all the more.

He mounted his horse and was about to leave the gates when a stout, elderly monk came huffing into the courtyard.

“Lord Norick, a word if you please,” the man gruffly shouted when he approached the mounted men.

“I have no time, I have told you all I know of the woman. Pleasant night.” He turned his horse, determined to put the woman behind him and make his way through the night. The monk reached out and boldly took hold of his horse’s bridle, stopping the animal from moving further.

“The woman, my Lord,” he stated in earnest.

“What of her?” Liam was growing impatient with the elderly monk and didn’t care if his annoyance sounded through his voice.

“We will not permit her to remain inside these walls.” The words were thrown with such haste from his mouth, as if speaking them quickly would make them easier to hear.

“I beg your pardon?” Liam couldn’t believe his ears. Was this not a monastery? Did not they welcome all God’s creatures, friend or foe?

“If you will not take her, my Lord, we will place her outside the gates. I vow it,” the blustering monk informed him hotly.

Liam briskly dismounted, causing the monk to take a quick step back for fear that he would be to blame for the news he’d just delivered. Liam stormed past him, through the gates and into the monastery, making his way to the small suffocating room where he’d placed the woman only moments ago. The elderly monk ran after him, huffing and puffing, doing his best to keep up with the fuming man.

Liam stalked into the room and looked down on the pallet where she slept unmoving, covered only by his thick, rendered cloak. Her hurts had still not been tended to. He took in the pitiful sight of her, feeling a fire ignited deep within his soul as his mellow temperament flared into rage.

“What is the meaning of this?” he bellowed, pulling his eyes to the two monks standing next to the fire, huddled together as if doing so would protect them from the raging man before them. “I bring a wounded woman to you seeking compassion and care and here she lies, bleeding to death right before your very eyes!”

When the monks remained silent, he looked around the room for something with which to bind the woman’s hurts. Finding what he was seeking on a nearby table he began to do the job himself, cleaning her arm and rewrapping it tightly with a strip of clean cloth. Every now and then he took the liberty to glare in the direction of cowering monks, still desiring answers to his questions.

“She is marked, my Lord. She is not welcome here.” One of the monks finally ventured to say, his fear adding a slight tremor to his voice.

“What drivel is this?” Liam tied off the bandage on her arm and moved to the gaping gash on her head.

“She is marked, my Lord,” the second monk informed him. He pointed to the woman’s feet, causing Liam to raise an eyebrow in question. “See for yourself what the devil has left upon her.”

Liam continued to clean the wound and wrap it. Only when he’d finished the task did he make his way to the foot of the pallet to inspect what had caused such alarm among the inhabitance of the monastery.

“Her left ankle, my Lord.” Liam followed the direction and suddenly resisted the urge to curse. It was as they said. She was marked. Never had he seen anything like it, two delicate wings were painted on the flesh of her ankle. A mark indeed, but not that of the devil, if anything, it was just the opposite.

Liam dipped a bit of cloth into the washbasin and tried to remove the paint with water. But whatever it was, it was stuck fast to her delicate skin, refusing to be washed away.

“As we said, my Lord, she is marked. A demon from the underworld sent to torment man,” the monk that fetched him murmured as he and his companion crossed themselves vigorously.

“You are daft. She is naught but a woman and you are a fool to think otherwise.” Liam took a strip of cloth and wrapped it securely around the woman’s ankle, concealing what looked to him like angel wings from any other eyes that might think it to be the mark of the devil. He then looked about the small stuffy room for the woman’s clothing.

“What did you with her gown?” He glared at the two monks who were now cowering so close to the blazing fire they might as well become a part of it for all the good they were to him.

“We burned them, my Lord.”

“What?” He heard the words as clear as day, but thought, perhaps he heard wrong. “Why?”

“They were not of this world, they had to be destroyed.” He was informed with conviction.

Liam clasped his hands to his head and rolled his eyes heavenward. He’d never been one to believe in witches, demons, impish creatures, fairies or any of the beasties that the simple-minded swore inhabited the forests. He believed in good and evil, heaven and hell. But as far as creatures who roamed the earth, looking to possess an unsuspecting soul, no.

He sucked in a steady breath and pointed at the nearest of the two monks. “You will find something that I might use to cover the lady, and you.” He then pointed to the monk who’d talked of burning her gown. “You will kindly shut your mouth before I am forced to do the task for you.” The monk in question snapped his gaping mouth shut with a click and shifted his eyes to the floor.

Liam was hastily given an old, worn monk’s habit and couldn’t help but scowl at its presenter. “Is this truly the best you can do?” Liam shook the garment at the man, only to receive an unapologetic shrug in return.

He sat himself down on the pallet and did his best to dress the woman while maintaining her dignity. He was far from what one might call a passable ladies maid. With the task completed, he retrieved his discarded cloak and wrapped it securely about her slender frame and lifted her carefully into his arms.

“I thank you for your help,” he muttered over his shoulder as he carried her from the room. “I will do my best and remember to thank the Lord for you when I’ve the time.” He stomped from the room making his way quickly to the gate and his waiting men.

Liam and his guard reached Mowbray just before dusk the following day. As he feared, the woman slowed them greatly, but he could hardly blame her for the injuries that put her in this present state, for they were hardly of her doing.

He passed the woman off to Ayden and shook the feeling back into his weary arms before dismounting. “Take her to master Camdon, see that she is well looked after and that her wounds are tended to.”

“Aye.” Ayden turned to leave only to be stopped again with further instruction from his master.

“Ayden, the binding on her left ankle is not to be removed. Understood?” he instructed. He was not sure why he was hiding the harmless mark but had the overwhelming feeling it was a wise thing to do, considering the reaction she received from the monks.

“Aye, my Lord.” Ayden looked at him with questioning eyes but hurried off to do his master’s bidding.

Liam turned in the direction of the keep to see his mother rushing down the stairs to greet him. He met her half way and encircled the petite, silver haired woman in his arms, resting his chin atop her head, and did his best not to weep.

Too long, it had been far too long.

“Liam, my boy. Ten years has changed you,” her voice was muffled against his chest as she spoke, then much to his surprise she pulled back and slapped him smartly across the face, the force of her grief stinging his cheek. “It takes your father dying to bring you home to me?” Fire sparked in her deep green eyes, but just as quickly as it appeared, her anger was smoothed over by sorrow. She embraced her son again, causing Liam to wish it were happier circumstances that brought him home.

“Forgive me mother, am I in time?” He turned his eyes from his mother and looked up to the castle.

“Aye, I believe he waits for his son.” Her hand slid into his and together they climbed the stairs in hallowed silence.

Liam swallowed the lump that lodged itself in his throat as he led his mother across the fresh rushes of the great room to a small circular staircase that would take them to his parent’s chamber. He followed her up the compact space and into a narrow corridor before coming to a stop in front of a closed door.

Her silence ate at him and he wondered how it was that she could remain so strong, when every fiber of his being was ready to crack. She only stood next to him and waited for him to enter the room when he was ready.

Liam took a deep breath, slowly pushed open the thick wooden structure and peered into the gloom of his parent’s chamber. It was dark and the air was thick. The shutters had been closed against the bright sunlight and a fire blazed in the hearth. He forced his feet to carry him across the room to where his father lay comfortably on his massive curtained bed.

Liam stood hesitantly at the foot of the bed, momentarily feeling as if he were a child again, small, insecure and desperately seeking his father’s praise and affection. Not that it had been lacking, or that he was a disappointment to the man. It was only that Liam was witness to his sorrows and heartache and made a vow to himself to never be the one to cause his father, or mother, such consuming grief.

“Father?” Liam hardly recognized his own voice as he spoke. He solemnly looked down at the frail man who’d once been larger than life.

“My son, you are late.” A slight smile graced his father’s lips, helping his son to relax ever so slightly.

“Never late father, I always arrive just in time,” Liam answered.

“Arrogance is the devil’s work, my boy. Now sit yourself down and talk a bit with your father.” His rebuke was blunt and fleeting, remaining in Liam’s heart as he obeyed his father’s request.

He did as he was told, perching his tall, lean frame on the edge of the bed, doing his best not to disturb his father’s comfort.

“Is it finished, boy?” Vallon questioned.

“Father?”

“This task that has kept you from your family these past years,” his father stated. His deep brown eyes still held their fire, although Liam could see it was dimming.

“Aye it is finished, it is grand to behold.” Liam tried to feel the deep pride he held for his keep, but somehow, at this moment, it eluded him.

“And does it bring you joy?” Vallon asked seriously. Liam gazed down at him and tried to look as if it truly did, but all he could do was look into this man’s eyes and remember how his mother had always told him how much he looked like his father. How much he was like him. Perhaps that was why he so sought for his approval, his heart couldn’t take it if he was found wanting in the eyes of one he loved.

His father never fully recovered from the betrayal caused by Liam’s older half brother, Malford. No one had seen the evil in him until it was too late and castle Norick was in ruin. After the monstrous attack, Vallon took his wife from the walls of Norick and placed the keep in Liam’s hands.

They all thought removing Vallon from the scene of the crime would mend him but the damage was done. Vallon’s heart was broken, a piece of his soul, that could never be replaced, had been violently removed. It was now a hidden, mortal wound that slowly festered until the unseen damage consumed its host.

“Your silence tells the truth, lad.” The words he spoke were soft and breathless, speaking of a life that was weary and ready to seek its rest. Liam turned those words over and over in his mind, knowing he had every reason to be happy. But why couldn’t he be?

He let his eyes trail along the bright coverlet silently naming his blessings. He was highly favored, his larders were full as was his coffers. His tenants respected him, his men were loyal too, and above all, his keep was finished. His life was truly blessed, but he didn’t find joy in this life that was his.

“I worry about you, my boy. Land you have, men who love you and are loyal to you, and a wealth you have gained to keep you living in comfort well beyond your days. But it is all for naught if you squander it away alone and unhappy,” he paused, his dark eyes fixed on his sons down trodden face.

“Father?” Liam waited as his father struggled for the breath to continue.

“My son, this woman who troubles you, keep her safe,” Vallon whispered briskly. Liam’s eyes nearly fell from his head when his father spoke. How could he know of the woman? His mother knew not of the woman.

His father extended his hand beckoning his lady wife to come to him. She pushed away from the doorframe and crossed the floor to kneel down beside the bed.

“Lady…I am a better man because of you,” Vallon breathed, searching her face as though to find a renewed will to live if only to save her from her grief.

“And I you, my Lord.” She kissed her husband tenderly and held his hand tightly as his eyes began to dim. Their life had been full. They lived through joy and sorrow. She’d been blessed with the love of her husband, she would never have asked for anything more.

Liam watched the exchange between his parents and knew then what it was his father was trying to tell him. He would never know true happiness until he allowed himself to give happiness in return. His parents were everything to one another and as Liam watched their tear filled exchange he found his heart suddenly longing for that kind of happiness.

His father’s priest appeared as if by magic and began his melodious chanting, ensuring that Lord Mowbray’s soul made a safe journey to heaven.

Liam placed a hand on his mother’s back as she bent her head and wept for the man she’d lost, for the joy that was no more and for the comforting knowledge that he was free from his pain.

He allowed his own tears to fall, knowing he would forever regret that he’d neglected his kin and that it was only after his father was on his deathbed that he managed to return to them after ten years of separation.

* * * * *

Victoria followed her son from the small chapel that rested just outside the keep and together they entered the great hall. She eyed her beloved son closely seeing his silent concern and knew the cause, for she’d done a bit of digging since her son returned to her. What she found had left her reeling with questions she’d not had the time to ask.

“Master Camdon tells me you brought a wounded woman with you from Norick.” Victoria eyed her son, not liking to be left in the dark about things such as this. Her son should have confided in her and saved her from being forced to snoop about his affairs.

“Not from Norick, mother. She was a good distance from my keep when we found her. She and whomever was with her were attacked in the forest. We found her alone, lying in the middle of the road, bleeding and unconscious.” Liam looked down at his mother, knowing instantly that she wanted the rest of the tale. “I took her to the monastery, but the monks refused to care for her.”

Victoria saw the anger flash in her son’s eyes, knowing all to well that it took a great deal to make his mellow temper flare.

“Why would they not take her in?” she asked, her own curiosity with this woman beginning to rise along with his anger.

Liam shifted his feet, silently considering if it was wise for him to tell his mother what he knew of the woman, and then he simply shrugged his shoulders. “I could not leave her to die so I brought her here, knowing that master Camdon would offer his assistance. She still sleeps and I am beginning to worry.”

“She took quite a blow to the head, my son. Have no fear, it will take time.” She patted his hand when he helped her sit in a large chair near the fire and then stood back to gaze at her.

“I take it, you have already paid a visit to master Camdon’s to see the lady.” He leaned against the hearth smiling brightly, knowing full well that his mother was always the first to see to those in need.

Victoria only smiled and sat back in the chair to take her ease, she had every confidence that the woman would awake. They would only have to bide their time and wait.

“Any word of your brother?” she asked after a moment of hushed silence.

“Nay.” Liam felt the fine hair on his nape prickle with the mention of his insufferable brother and wished to leave the vile man in the past.

“News travels fast, Liam. It will reach him and then it will only be a matter of time until he comes seeking that which he believes to be his,” she softly reminded, her own fear of the man rising within her.

“Aye.” Was all Liam could manage to say to her words of warning and struggled to force all thoughts of the loathsome man from his mind.

* * * * *

Champion

2012-01-26T21:05:00.000-08:00

Chapter Two

Gabrielle sighed deeply with the memories of her distant youth as she made her way down the remainder of the stairs, lifting the hem of her pale pink gown as she crossed the gravel yard to the small grouping of mighty oak trees. She stood in the center of the trees and turned her face up to gaze at the fluttering leaves above her. If only she would have known in her youth how horrid the shackles of adult life could be. Had she known then what she knew now, she might not have cast her childhood aside so abruptly as she did.

She pulled her gaze from the leaves to glance back at the keep. As she had changed, the same was true of her childhood home. This place she once thought to be massive and dreary was now a dwelling of quiet certainty.

She leaned her slender frame against the trunk of a tree and hugged her shoulders allowing her mind to wonder again over her past. Not all of her memories were dark, not all of them were filled with regret.

In her mind’s eye it was early spring, the day was soft and warm, a good deal like the day she was living now. Four years had passed them by since Ayden came to foster within the walls if her home. Four years that, in Gabrielle’s eyes, were the happiest years of her life.

* * * * *

“Shh, listen!” Gabrielle whispered, abruptly ending her chatter as she held her hand up to Ayden’s mouth, as if he were the one rambling on and on about the Mayday celebration her father was planning.

“You shh!” he chided, pushing her hand away. “You are the one who refuses to be silent.” Ayden smiled when Gabrielle smacked him smartly upon the arm, scowling at him while fighting to control her own amusement.

“Truly listen,” she murmured, tipping her head to the sound only she seemed to hear “Oh it’s, Nan. Hurry let us hide before she finds me and forces me to take up my needle.” Gabrielle took hold of his arm and pulled him out the door of the great hall, down the stairs and across the spacious courtyard to the only cluster of trees that graced the barren grounds of Westwood.

“How could you tell it was Nan, Gabby? I could hear nothing,” he asked, following Gabrielle’s example and hid behind a tree, then looked around the thick trunk to the steps of the keep. He knew how she hated to be confined indoors and did his best to hide from the woman her father hired to help raise his daughter.

“That, my friend, is because you are as deaf as a post.” Gabrielle gave him a mischievous smile, flashing her white teeth at him. “The blasted woman shuffles her feet when she walks.” She pointed in triumph when the lady in question appeared in the doorway her hands on her hips her pale brown hair shinning in the midday sun.

“I may be deaf Lady, but I can see better on a foggy day than you could on a day lit by a blazing sun,” Ayden bragged then reached out and pinched her shoulder, causing her to squeal.

“Ouch!” She reached out and pinched him back then they both watched as Nan shook her head, disappointed at not finding her charge, and disappeared once again inside the keep.

“Awe, sweet victory,” Gabrielle announced as she sank down to the soft ground, at the base of the tree, and patted the grassy spot next to her for Ayden to sit. He obeyed and sat shoulder to shoulder with her, looking up to the fluttering leafs dancing on the gentle breeze just above their heads as the silence of the afternoon enveloped him.

In all his days at Westwood he’d never known Gabrielle to be silent for longer than few minutes at a time, unless something was troubling her. He looked at her upturned face and the slight smile playing across her lips, deciding she looked terribly content and then found himself wondering what it was that occupied her mind to keep her quiet for so long.

His poor heart fluttered wildly as he freely took in the young woman who sat beside him. She had changed, over the years, as he came to see her for the woman she could be. Strong and beautiful, not just the chattering, rumpled sprite she was when he saved her from her tormenters all those years ago. She was still that girl, but he seemed to see her with different eyes. Eyes changed by the deep affection he now carried for her.

He longed to reach out and brush a strand of dark hair from her face and run his fingers across her rosy cheek. It was a tenderness he’d seen his father bestow upon his mother time and time again. He longed to know for himself what it felt like to share such tenderness with Gabrielle.

“What?” Her voice pulled him from a place he hardly ever allowed his mind to wander and back to the now.

“What?” he responded with alarm at being caught staring at her like a smitten fool.

“You are staring at me as if you have never eaten a thing in the whole of your life,” she teased, laughing slightly as she elbowed him in the ribs.

“You just looked content sitting there and I was wondering what you had on your mind to keep you so silent for so long,” he mused, hoping she would not see the blush creeping onto his cheeks.

“You missed my chattering did you?” Gabrielle tilted her head back and closed her eyes against a streak of light that managed to make its way down through the fluttering leafs.

“Hardly, it is only that my ears have become so accustomed to your endless chatter they were beginning to ring with the silence,” he muttered, his affection for her smoothing his voice.

“Oh hush you.” Her lips parted with a smile and then it was quiet again, causing him to worry.

“Tell me Gabby,” he insisted with her prolonged silence.

“Do you truly wish to know?” she asked.

“Aye.”

“Truly?” She turned to face him and somehow through her joy managed to frown at him, turning her lips out in the pout she often used on her father to force him to comply with her wishes.

“I will seek out Nan, and inform her of your hiding place,” he threatened, pinching her again on the arm, satisfied when she squealed.

“Very well, I wished to keep it to myself for a moment longer but if you must know.” She paused and smiled for a moment, holding her news to herself for but a moment longer. “I am to be betrothed.” She smiled brightly at him her dark eyes shinning in true bliss.

“What? When?” Ayden gasped, hardly believing his ears. He wanted to ask Lord Westwood if he might have his daughter’s hand. He loved Gabrielle greater than any man ever could, he was sure of it.

“My father informed me this very morning. Is it not wonderful?” She was on her feet in one smooth movement and began spinning about in a circle, a bundle of boundless energy.

“Do you know this man to whom you are to be married?” Ayden asked, running a hand through his hair nearly in a panic.

“Nay,” Gabrielle stopped her spinning and turned to look down at him, slightly taken aback by his question. “Does it matter if I know him or not?”

“Aye, it matters. He could be a brute or a drunk or worse.” Ayden pushed to his feet to look her in the eyes.

“My father surely knows him Ayden, he would not allow me to marry such a man. You know that as well as I,” she said crushed by his lack of enthusiasm in her pending betrothal. She reached out and took his hands in hers causing his world to crumble. “I thought you would be happy for me, Ayden,” she remarked her dark eyes searching his face, desperately seeking his approval.

“Aye, I’m happy for you,” he lied, knowing he would never accept the fact that she would be married to anyone but him.

“Besides, you are to go to Norick within the fortnight and will have plenty to occupy your mind. So what else have I to do but marry?” she murmured softly. “You will win your spurs and I will do my best to hide from, Nan.” Her dark eyes burned through his resolve, causing his soul to ache.

“Knowing that I will be married when I am ten and seven will give me something to dream about.” In the corners of her mind, she could manage to escape whatever it was that plagued her little world, whether it be Nan forcing her to remain indoors practicing her stitches or some foul insult she was offered by one of the lads. Within the depths of her dreams, she could escape anything. Ayden only wished he could allow himself to escape his troubles within his dreams. He tried many a time, but in the end he was reminded of the harshness his cruel world contained.

“Aye,” he offered softly, hating the sound of his own voice. “I hardly believe I will win my spurs, Gabby. You have turned me into a lazy bones, spending my days hiding with you in the trees when I should be in the lists practicing a skill that will serve me well.” He did his best to give her his support, although knowing she was to wed another tore him apart from the inside out.

“I have seen you in the lists Ayden, you do yourself an injustice speaking ill of your skill,” she complemented with pride, her dark eyes sparkling as she looked at him.

“Awe, the false praise of a friend. I know not whether to take these words to heart or allow them to further injure my pride.” He knew as well as she that Lord Norick would find him greatly lacking when it came to his skill in the lists.

“Do not take my words as jest,” she scolded. “You have been a dear friend to me these last years. I would never have survived this dreary life without you. I thank you for the sacrifices you have made in my name.” She kissed him lightly on the cheek turning his legs to useless mush.

“Aye.” Was all he could manage to say to her earnest words of praise.

Gabrielle took in her dear friend’s down trodden countenance and tried not to laugh at him. Who would have ever guessed the prospect of her marriage would upset him so greatly? They both knew they couldn’t be playmates forever. Besides she was ten and two and he was leaving her to go and squire at another keep and more than that, her dear father couldn’t keep her locked away in this dreadful place forever. She must marry.

“When is your blessed betrothal, so your so called husband-to-be can grace us with his presence?” Ayden asked, dropping her hands to lean his slender frame against a nearby tree, folding his arms about his chest.

“I will not meet him until the day we are wed,” she answered wearily, watching Ayden scowl and quickly began speaking again before he had a chance to rant and rave about how any respectable man would be here for his own betrothal.

“Father says he is winning his spurs, then owes his master services before he will be able to travel to Westwood. It is common enough Ayden, so stop scowling at me before you spoil my pleasant mood,” Gabrielle scolded, doing her best to smile, but found she couldn’t because of the gloom playing across his face. She cared deeply for him and hated to see him so wretched at such a blessed time.

She crossed the distance to where he stood and slid her arm through his, turning her head to look up into his pale eyes.

“Will you stand in as his proxy?” she asked, hope filling her voice. “There is no other I would rather stands next to me than you.” Gabrielle tugged at his arm gently, wishing he were in better spirits.

“I cannot,” he answered briskly, shuffling his feet in the soft grass.

“Oh Ayden, please… do not make me beg, for you know I will. Please stand in for Alexander,” she nearly pleaded, pulling on his arm.

“So he has a name.” He furrowed his brow at her and Gabrielle tried to understand the source of his annoyance with the man she was to marry. He’d never met him and yet he acted as if he already offended him in someway.

“Aye he has a name, Alexander Mountbatton. His father is presently in service to the king as will his son one day.” She watched Ayden’s eyes grow even darker and knew she’d pinched a tender nerve.

“I will never befriend a man who is in the service of this king.” He turned his eyes from her, and Gabrielle felt instant sorrow with his harsh words, though she fully understood the reasoning behind them.

“What of his wife, will you still call her your friend?” she questioned, swallowing her sudden grief. She could not live her life without his friendship.

Ayden looked at her then, his eyes full of the very same sorrow she felt. Their lives were changing, never to be the same again. God only knew when, or if, they would see one another once he left for Norick.

“Aye Gabby, I will still call you a friend no matter how wretched your husband may be.” Ayden took hold of her hand and squeezed it gently, still looking rather aggravated with her coming betrothal.

“Then say aye, Ayden. Stand next to me before the priest,” Gabrielle begged, her hope intertwined in her words.

“Very well,” he whispered as though she was forcing him to perform the task. It was simple enough to her mind, he only need stand beside her and speak the name of her betrothed as it was asked of him. “As you wish it, but it brings me no joy,” Ayden huffed as if he were truly indifferent.

“Thank you!” she squealed, throwing her arms about his neck, hugging him tightly. It would all be perfect, just as she always imagined it, save for the fact the intended would be missing but she would have Ayden to stand in his place so all would be well.

Near a fortnight later Ayden stood ridged before the priest, holding Gabrielle’s hand in his, clenching and unclenching his teeth and grinding his jaw until it ached from the strain. How she ever talked him into standing as proxy he would never know?

He spent long hours thinking of this day, but oh how he’d seen it differently. In his mind it had been his name which was spoken and not that of Alexander Mountbatton, some fool peacock in service to the king.

He forced himself to pay attention and said the words that were asked of him, speaking the name of the strange man, unwillingly placing his beloved Gabrielle into the hands of another, losing her forever.

She beamed up at him when he slid the small gold ring onto her finger, and in return took the one she had to offer her betrothed and clutched it in the palm of his closed fist. He wanted nothing more than to throw the horrid trinket upon the ground and stomp the cursed thing into the dust with the heel of his boot.

Hours later he sat beside Gabrielle on the dais, while the inhabitance of Westwood dined on the finest fare he’d ever seen grace the white linen covered tables. Legs of beef, mutton, a delicate swan laid out in its feathers, fine pastries and fruit in all assortments stretched out before them. The massive hall was set a blaze with laughter and music, while his poor heart sunk deeper and deeper into despair.

He looked across the hall to where Lord Westwood was talking and laughing with a few of his tenants, giving Ayden cause to wonder how it was that such an honorable man could give his only daughter away to a perfect stranger, when he was sitting right here and would take care of his Lord’s only child just as well as any?

Ayden rose abruptly from his seat and crossed the room to where Lord Westwood was conversing, his ears filling with the conversation his master was gleefully sharing with all who were within hearing.

“My daughter will marry into a fine family indeed. Aye, they serve the crown but what can be said of that, so does half of England. I will be honored to have her upon the arm of a fine man with a strong name resting on her shoulders.” Lord Westwood concluded his speech with a hardy drink from his goblet, pausing when his dark eyes fell to his foster son.

“Ayden my boy, what ails you lad?” he inquired concern edging his voice as he pushed through the crowd that separated them. He took Ayden by the arm and propelled him to a quiet corner.

“I am well enough, only nerves, my Lord.” He tipped his head at the man before him, a man he’d grown to love as dearly as his own father. He had not the nerve to contradict Lord Westwood’s choice of husband for his only daughter.

“Thinking of your journey to Norick, are you my boy? Do not fret over much. I am well acquainted with Lord Norick. He is a good man despite the rumors you have no doubt heard about him. He will teach you that which I have failed to teach you these last years.” He patted his foster son hardily on the shoulder then followed his pale eyes to the dais where his daughter sat beaming, gleefully chattering with whomever came within hearing.

“Gabby will miss you terribly, Ayden. You have been her only true friend and I thank you for that.” Lord Westwood added an extra emphasis to the word friend, never turning his eyes from his daughter as he spoke.

Ayden pulled his gaze unwillingly back to his master and mulled the word friend over and over in his mind applying to it the emphasis Lord Westwood placed upon that single, repulsive word.

Aye, he was her friend and after this day that is what he would remain, her friend, and nothing more.

“Aye, my Lord.” Ayden gave him a half bow and made his way out of the great hall into the fresh night air, hoping to clear his head. In a day he would make his way to Norick and put her behind him. He would have no choice. His unspoken question was answered. This, Alexander, was a better man than he, that miserable fact had been made clear enough to his young mind.

He slumped down the steps then turned to look back at castle Westwood. This massive keep had been his home for four years, and now he would leave it as he left his last home, full of sorrow and longing for what could never be.

Gabrielle sat on the steps of the keep, gazing at her ringed finger a slight smile parting her lips. It was a glorious night; the food, the dancing and for the first time, in her life, all the attentions had been on her.

She rose from her perch and stretched her sluggish arms towards the heavens. She was still exhausted from her night of revelry, but wouldn’t miss Ayden’s departure for all the sleep in the world.

The small party had been making preparations since the sun peeked up over the horizon and were now nearly ready to depart on their long journey. She decided she better say her goodbyes before they were all mounted and headed to the gate.

“Safe journey, Papa.” Gabrielle hugged her father, giving him a bright smile figuring it would be far easier saying goodbye to her father since she knew he would be returning, while heaven only knew when she would see Ayden again.

“Take care while I am away, see things are kept in order and stay out of mischief.” He kissed her tenderly upon the forehead before he mounted his horse and nodded to where Ayden stood, fiddling with his saddle, putting off departure as long as he could possibly manage.

“Will Lord Norick be kind to him, Papa?” Gabrielle asked, concern for her friend welling up within her.

“Aye daughter. He will be well taught and will no doubt win his spurs faster than you can mend a fine gown.” He threw her a wink, knowing full well of the length his daughter took to avoid plying her needle. “Say your farewell child.”

Gabrielle slowly crossed the courtyard to where Ayden stood still inspecting his saddle and looking rather finicky even to her young eyes.

“I believe it is sound,” she offered, not knowing what else to say. He was so displeased with her for forcing him to stand proxy for Alexander, she wondered if he would ever speak to her again. But then again, what did it matter, he was leaving today to start a new life miles and miles away and would no doubt forget she existed.

“Aye.” Was his only response, and then he looked for a moment as if he might mount his horse without bidding her farewell.

Gabrielle hastily untied the deep blue ribbon that bound her hair back from her face and tied it about his arm, meeting his eyes when he turned to look at her. He seemed fully stunned with the simple gesture.

“What is that for?” Ayden asked a bit confused. He’d seen ladies tie favors to the arms of their knights before they rode off to do battle in the lists, bidding them to fight in their name and win the right to be her champion, but he was no knight and she was betrothed to another.

“Were you not my champion once, Ayden?” she asked softly, nearly choking on her words. “I could not let you ride away without something to remember me.” Her eyes suddenly filled with tears and his firm resolve to leave without properly telling her farewell crumbled into nothing. He hated to see her cry and soon found his traitor arms hugging her tightly.

“Awe, silly Gabby, do not cry.” He pulled back and held her hands in his, looking into her over large eyes and dirt-smudged face. No matter how hard she tried she always carried a bit of dirt on her cheeks. The poor girl was so thin she took on the look of being half starved, but oh how he knew better. She could out eat any of her father’s men by a fair amount and sit beaming in triumph, as if she’d hardly eaten a thing, as her opponents would groan in discomfort. Her coal black hair was her best feature, even though it was hardly ever bushed and even now when it looked as if she had just crawled out of her bed.

“Will you remember me once you are a grand knight and I am married? Will you still think of me from time to time, even when you are busy accomplishing the things that grand men do?” She choked back a sob and did her best to smile up at him.

“Aye, Gabby. How could I not?” he asked, brushing her cheeks warily with the very tips of his fingers. He knew after this moment he would do all within his power to never see her again. “My poor, fool ears will ring daily from missing your endless chatter.”

“Good, I will not be the only one who is in misery. I will miss you terribly, Ayden.” She hugged him again, causing his world to spin violently about him. He tipped his head heavenward silently pleading for her father to somehow reconsider and allow things to be as they have always been.

He would gladly stay at Westwood and learn from Gabrielle’s father all he needed to know to become a knight, then he would have every right to ask for her hand. He would be a good man. He would be worthy of her. He knew he would be, he only needed time.

“Aye.” Was all he could force his constricted throat to say. All the pleading in the world would never change what was. He would have no choice but to suffer and he would do so in silence.

“Come along, lad. We must be on our way.” Lord Westwood turned his horse in the direction of the gate followed by the rest of his men, their horses laden with supplies for the long journey.

“Farewell.” Ayden bent and kissed her gently upon the cheek and hastily mounted his horse.

“Safe journey,” Gabrielle called after him as he put heel to his mount.

He could not look back as he rode away. He had not the desire for her to see his tears of regret rolling unchecked down his cheeks.

Memories of the heart

2012-01-26T20:51:00.000-08:00

Chapter Two

Suri stood in a small shop that had been cunningly marked Tailor’s, her arms folded tightly as she continued to shake her head at the little man. He was relentlessly producing costume after costume from the various racks about the room.

“Come on Suri it will be fun,” Sabrina begged, gripping her own peasants dress in her hands.

“My idea of fun isn’t tramping about in the forest, Bri. If I wanted to camp I would have stayed at home.”

“It’s Midsummer’s eve,” Sabrina reminded her, as if that alone would sway her mind.

“It’s tradition,” the little man supplied from across the shop where he was still looking for a suitable costume.

“I hate to camp, even in jeans and sneakers, I have no desire to camp in a dress,” she complained, continuing to shake her head when he held up another ridiculous costume.

“It will be fun,” Sabrina begged from where she was standing by the dressing rooms.

“No…not fun,” Suri answered, shaking her dark head at her sister. “With our luck we’ll get lost or eaten.”

“Nonsense,” the little man laughed, throwing a dark green dress over his shoulder then began searching the racks again.

“We have a guide Suri, a strong sturdy man to take care of us. And if we win the scavenger hunt…”

“I know, I know, you told me. Tickets to see a play in London and a nights stay in some fancy shmancy hotel,” Suri interrupted, picking at the ends of her dark, mid length hair with the tips of her fingers.

She really wasn’t all that annoyed with her sister’s plans for the evening and like Sabrina said, if they won the scavenger hunt it would mean freedom from humdrum Ville. Four days here was more than plenty, they’d already done and seen just about everything, but this was the icing on the cake.

They would have a guide and the first clue. She liked games and was pretty good when it came to solving riddles, so that was the tolerable part. The part of the night she wasn’t happy about was being out after dark, in the woods. She’d never been crazy about camping…or hiking for that matter.

The thought of hundreds of beady little eyes, that she couldn’t see, following her as she walked, made her skin crawl. But she knew Sabrina wouldn’t go alone, so what choice did she have?

“Please Suri,” Sabrina begged, clasping her hands together, her dark eyes pleading with her sister.

“Fine.”

“Yeah!” she squeaked then disappeared into the dressing room, laughing as she changed.

“Suri is it?” the little man asked, crossing the shop to where she stood, a green and brown bundle in his arms.

“That’s right.”

“Do you know the meaning of your name?” He smiled brightly at her, his pale eyes twinkling.

“It means princess,” she answered. She’d always loved her name, especially when she was little. She’d pretend she was a princess bouncing around the house from morning to night in her Halloween costume, without a single care in the world.

“That is right, and as that is your name, that is what you will be this night.” He handed her the bundle of clothing. “Midsummer’s eve is a night of magic and wonder, anything can happen.”

“I don’t believe in magic,” Suri whispered, struggling to force thoughts of her childhood aside.

“To each his own.” He winked at her before pushing her toward a vacant dressing room.

Suri changed quickly; shrugging the dress on over her head then stood looking at her reflection in the mirror, feeling as she had years ago when she was a little girl. Giddy and dreamy as if anything was possible.

Though the dress was comprised of her two least favorite colors she was surprised to see how good it looked on her. The dark green overdress fell nearly to the floor, gathered up on one side, showing off the deep brown of the under dress. The sleeves of the brown dress fit snug and long, reaching nearly to her knuckles. The full sleeves of the green dress were pulled up at her elbow neatly bringing the two gowns together.

She shook back her dark hair, her eyes fixed on her reflection and how strange she looked. She hadn’t dressed up since the last time she’d gone trick-or-treating and that was years and years ago. She had to admit it was kind of fun, dressing up like she was a kid again.

“Come on Suri we have to be back to the hotel by a quarter to six.” Sabrina reminded as she paid for their costumes.

Suri picked up her clothes and opened the door, doing her best to hide the fact that she was enjoying herself from her sister

Sabrina only looked at her wide-eyed; she was dressed as a peasant from head to toe in a long blue dress and deep blue surcoat. She’d braided her dark hair that had always been left down, long and straight. She looked much younger, Suri mused to herself, as she crossed the shop to where her sister stood by the counter.

“I want your dress,” Sabrina teased, walking around her sister, a wide smile on her face. “You look good.”

“You owe me Bri, so don’t press your luck. But thank you.” Suri did her best not to smile but her mouth wouldn’t obey.

“Cloaks, ladies.” The shopkeeper held a deep burgundy cloak out to Suri and a thick black one to Sabrina.

“Thanks,” They offered in unison and left the shop, making their way back to the hotel to place their clothes in their rented room and join the others who were participating in the Midsummer’s eve festivities in the lobby. The large room was near bursting with people, all dressed in medieval garb, and all eager to win the prize.

“I think he liked you,” Sabrina teased as they stood against the wall, waiting for instructions.

“Who?”

“The tailor guy.” Sabrina continued, a smile plastered to her face.

“He is too old for me Bri, and you promised no matchmaking while we are in England? Remember? You get a vacation from your life and I get a vacation from you pushing,” Suri reminded her, annoyed that she would imply such a thing.

“Don’t get mad Suri, you look good. I’m jealous that’s all.” Sabrina wrapped her arm around her sister, hugging her tightly.

“Don’t be, I feel like a Christmas tree, here trade me.” She handed her burgundy cloak to her sister and took Sabrina’s, draping the heavy black cloak about her shoulders just as a tall man, with a thick accent, stood up on a chair and began stating rules and safety precautions.

“Stay with your guide and follow the rules, if you get caught cheating you automatically forfeit. Good luck,” he announced motioning to the door of the hotel.

Each group picked their first clue out of a rustic wooden bucket when they left the lobby and were appointed a guide, according to their clue.

Suri looked at their guide with a raised brow and flushed cheeks. He was model material, tall and built and wow. He was dressed as a knight in the traditional colors of Norick, green and gold. She ignored Sabrina when she tried to get her sisters attention, with no doubt something smart to say about the hottie they got to spend the night with.

She was freed from her sisters meddling when the clock struck seven and the game was on. The quiet little town erupted in a swarm of people, all off to win the game and the prize.

Their first clue led them to the tavern where the next clue was hidden under a bench, but the second clue sent them north, into the forest to find a tree.

Suri lifted the skirts of her gown as she followed their guide into the trees, mumbling under her breath as she went. “A tree, Bri. We’re looking for a tree,” she complained as they wandered further into the forest.

“He’s kinda cute, huh Suri?” Sabrina whispered, completely breaking her promise as she nodded to their guide, trudging along ahead of them.

“No, he’s not,” Suri snapped back, her voice a low whisper, her face flaming red as she glared her sister down.

“I always liked a man in uniform,” Sabrina sighed, jumping to the side when Suri smacked her arm.

“Here it is,” he announced, pointing to a cluster of trees before them.

Suri wandered about the cluster, half-heartedly looking for the clue, mumbling as she went. “A tree, original.”

“Having fun?” he asked, coming up behind her.

“Tons,” she replied, smiling at him, thankful it was growing dark and he wouldn’t see that she was blushing.

“Justin,” he offered, extending his hand to her.

“Suri.” She took his hand and shook it, trying not to look as embarrassed as she felt.

“Pretty. Your name, I mean, well…”

“Thanks.” She released his hand, turning her attention back to the trees. “How about a hint?”

“That’s cheating,” he teased, just as Sabrina let out a cry of victory and came running over to them, waving an envelope in the air.

“One hundred and fifty paces due east and then north fifty more, to the rocks where you will find wonders galore.” Sabrina handed Justin the clue that turned them east and took them further into the trees.

When it seemed like an eternity had passed and it felt like they’d gone a lot further than a hundred and fifty paces Suri voiced her concern. “You are counting, right?”

“I thought you were counting,” he mused, his accent swirling about in the air around them.

“That’s really not funny.” Suri tried to keep her spirits light but the sun was rapidly disappearing, bringing all manner of sounds to her ears as the night creatures crept out from hiding.

“North ladies, and fifty more will take you to the rocks.” He pointed, then waited for them to go on ahead.

Sabrina searched the rocks high and low for the clue, enjoying herself completely while Suri stood by watching her.

“You’ll not find it that way,” Justin remarked, coming up behind her, his arms folded across his chest. “If you don’t hurry it will be dark soon and you won’t be able to read what it says until the moon rises.”

“Are you telling me you don’t have a flashlight?” Suri looked him over, noticing for the first time, that he carried nothing more than a small walky-talky on his hip.

“Now where would the fun be in that?” He continued to smile at her as Sabrina found the clue and came bounding over to them, opening the envelope as she ran.

“South five hundred paces next to a stream, I think.” She squinted at the writing in the dim light, trying to be sure, then handed the clue to Justin, who turned them south.

“Its quiet,” Suri stated when she couldn’t take the night sounds any longer.

“I’m counting,” Sabrina informed them from the other side of Justin.

“Scared of the dark are we?” he asked, his voice light and friendly.

“Not the dark so much, it’s the animals that wander around in the dark that I don’t like.”

“Not to worry, the worst you’ll find in these woods is a mouse, fox, bore, maybe a wolf or two.” He laughed when Suri stopped and stood blinking at him in the darkness.

“But with so many people out in the woods, they will surely be hiding.” He walked back to where she stood, took her by the arm and pulled her forward. “I’m teasing.”

“Not funny,” Suri scolded once she could find her voice.

They continued deeper into the forest as the full moon rose high in the sky, dimly lighting their way. Justin began humming a merry tune, kindly breaking the silence between them.

“Have you worked here long?” Suri asked, trying to keep her mind off the dark shadows and night sounds that seemed to close in around them.

“This is my first summer.”

“What?” she blurted, hardly believing she was wandering the woods, at night, with the new guy.

“Not to worry, my family used to vacation here every summer. Midsummer’s eve was always my favorite event.”

“Did you ever win the prize?” Sabrina asked.

“No, it’s harder than you might think. The closer you get to the end, the harder the clues become. One year no one found the prize.”

“That’s because there are a million trees out here. They could be a little more specific.” Suri murmured under her breath. “What’s the big deal about Midsummer’s eve anyway?”

“Magic, anything is possible on Midsummer’s eve. This night gave people something to look forward to. Something to think about when the drudgery of everyday life wore them down. Midsummer’s eve meant a night of revelry, feasting, dreams and magic.”

“I don’t believe in magic,” Suri whispered as the sound of a trickling stream met their ears.

“Everyone believes in magic,” Justin chided moments before the stream came into view.

“Ha, you don’t know my sister. She won’t even read fairy tales to her nieces,” Sabrina supplied, causing Suri to feel a little betrayed.

“Really, why?” he asked, bringing them to a stop next to the bubbling ribbon of water.

“It doesn’t matter.” Suri walked away, searching the bank for the next clue, wishing she’d never allowed Sabrina to bring her here.

She had a hard enough time enduring her sister’s questions and lectures, about how life is what you make of it, when in a blink of an eye it is all forgotten as if it never was. Her mother was so young, she was only fifty-eight and now she only remembered flashes of her life and that was on good days.

Suri pushed the thoughts of her mother aside and wandered along the stream, the lowered voices of Justin and Sabrina fading into the other noises of the night.

She wanted to be happy, to go back to school, date, marry and someday become a crazy mother like her sister. But none of that had ever seemed right. Maybe it was because she really felt as though it didn’t matter if she had all those things if one day they would all be forgotten. What was the point in making memories if you couldn’t remember them?

A glimmer of white caught her eye, pulling her attention to the tall grass near the bank where a crisp envelope was lying neatly in the midst of abundant vegetation.

She wiped at a tear with the sleeve of her ridiculous dress, retrieved the envelope and ripped it open to read the next clue.

Two miles west you’ll pass the test, the end is drawing near.

Have a care and stay aware, for danger’s lurking here.

“Corny game,” Suri whispered, making her way back to the others. The sooner they finished this, the sooner she could go to bed and forget today ever happened.

A good two hours later they crossed the gravel road that had taken them to the hotel. The undergrowth was thick and snatched at the fabric of her dress, causing her to hate the little man at the shop.

“How will we know when we’ve gone two miles?” Sabrina asked, her voice beginning to sound a bit winded.

Justin paused and looked around at the dim surrounding, his brows drawn together as if he were concentrating.

“Don’t tell me we’re lost.” Suri pulled at her heavy cloak then wiped the sweat from her brow with the back of her hand.

“Not lost, we just aren’t where we’re suppose to be,” he answered, looking up at the moon with a scowl.

“Isn’t that the same as being lost?” Suri followed his eyes to the moon the edge of panic creeping over her.

“No, I believe we’ve been going south west instead of west, we simply need to retrace our steps and try again.” He offered her a smile, attempting to tell her he was in complete control of the situation when in fact he was a bit nervous himself.

“I hate to be a party pooper, but I need to rest for a second or two.” Sabrina removed her burgundy cloak, her blue sleeves gleaming in the moonlight.

“I see a large tree stump over here, lets rest for a moment and decide what to do.” Justin helped Sabrina through the underbrush to the stump he’d spoken of. Suri followed them lifting her skirts above her knees as she walked and plopped down on the massive stump next to Justin and her sister.

Her heart fluttered wildly, a sudden gust of wind pulled at her hair and then it was quiet, terribly, terribly quiet.

Suri placed a hand over her heart feeling its steady rhythm beneath her palm. It was too quiet, the kind of quiet that gives you goose bumps and tells the soul something’s not as it should be.

Justin and Sabrina were talking softly as though nothing was wrong. But she felt it, a strange feeling hung thick in the air. She could feel the silence of the forest closing in around her.

Suri turned her head to the right and saw the fallen tree that belonged to the stump she sat on and shuddered. It was once an ominous presence with thick rough bark and mangled, gnarled branches reaching out like monster hands, that seemed ready to snatch at anything within reach.

“I think we should go,” Suri whispered as she stood, her chest tight as though it was being crushed.

“What Suri?” Sabrina asked softly, pushing to her feet, followed by Justin.

“Go, we need to go,” she whispered not knowing why she was keeping her voice low only that she felt it was important to do so.

“But we haven’t found the clue yet. Justin thinks that if we walk west for a while we should come across the next clue.” It was then that they heard it, the sound of men’s voices, the clink of a bridle and the whinny of a horse.

“What was that?” Suri asked, stepping up closer to Justin her heart pounding wildly in her ears.

“Its okay Suri, voices are a good thing. It’s probably just another group,” he assured her.

“On horses? Wouldn’t that be considered cheating?” Sabrina asked when the shapes of a large group of men on horseback came into view on the road.

“I don’t know those men,” Justin whispered his posture suddenly tense. “Go further into the trees, anyone involved in the scavenger hunt would be…” His words came to an abrupt halt as he turned and looked up at the faces of a dozen or so men all of whom were on horseback, looking down on them with venom in their eyes. Thick beards covered their faces and heavy linked armor enveloped their bodies, causing them to gleam in the pale moonlight.

“Your master leaves you Norick scum,” one of the men hissed, his voice a harsh whisper against the silence.

“What?” Justin asked in bewilderment. He didn’t know these men who sat towering before them. He’d been told nothing of this, something was wrong. These men were not employees of Hotel Norick, and judging from the mans thick accent these men were French. “Who are you?” he asked, taking a step backward, edging closer to where Suri and Sabrina stood.

“Take them.” The gruff man whispered, drawing a sword that was all too real to Suri’s eyes.

“Run!” Justin yelled spinning around to face them, he lurched forward then collapsed, his limp body falling across the tree stump, an arrow sticking out of his back, just above his shoulder.

“Justin!” Sabrina screamed her hand gripping her sister’s. And then he vanished as if he’d never been there at all.

“Demons.” The man pointed his sword at the stump, aghast with what he just witnessed.

Sabrina took advantage of their stunned silence, yanking on Suri’s hand quietly telling her to run. They pushed forward, their hindering dresses gathered up in their arms, their hearts pounding as yelling filled their ears.

Suri dodged a tree, releasing Sabrina’s hand, turning right when her sister turned left and disappeared into a thick grove of trees. Suri glanced over her shoulder, then stumbled over the undergrowth falling to her knees, catching the attention of her pursuers, pulling them in her direction. She was alone. Where was Sabrina?

She jumped to her feet, but that was the best she could do. Fear washed over her in a wave of panic so strong she could only stare at the brutes as they thundered toward her, their teeth bared, swords drawn.

This has to be a dream, this can’t be real. “Wake up Suri, wake up!” she pleaded with no luck, she remained where she stood, numb with terror.

A thunder of hooves rose up behind her as the men they’d seen on the road flew past her, swords drawn as they attacked the barbarians who shot Justin.

She blinked in disbelief at what she was seeing, still trying to convince herself that it was a terrible nightmare brought on by too much history and not enough sleep.

Swords clanked, horses snorted in protest as their riders pounded upon one another, until the weaker of the two fell to the forest floor with a sickening thump that turned her stomach.

This was worse than anything she’d ever seen on TV and prayed it was nothing more than a highly skilled group of actors, hired to make the scavenger hunt a little more exciting.

Suri jumped back as the gruff man who’d spoken to them fell to the ground before her, a deep gash in his scull. She bumped up against a tree, her hand clutching her throat as she lost everything she’d eaten for supper.

Cursed

2012-01-26T20:16:00.000-08:00

Gunnor raced through the night clutching the reins of his massive gray charger. Gusts of wind tore at his cloak and the sound of pounding hooves nearly deafened him, as his mount ate up the earth beneath him.

“Through here,” he bellowed to the army of armed men who were keeping up with his urgent pace. They left the beaten path, entering a barren field that would take them to the walls of the keep all the faster. They fell upon their target only moments later, attacking the wooden fortress with a force that would cause a seasoned solider to swoon with fear.

They were not many in numbers, but what they lacked in men they made up for in ferocity.

“Bring it down,” Lord Haven bellowed as they were showered with arrows from the numerous archers upon the battlements above. It was his daughter who was being held within. He looked to her husband who was doing his fair share of the labor to see they gained entrance and saw her to safety before it was too late. “Bring it down!” He bellowed again, his heart constricted with fear.

Gunnor heard the gate crack, it was beginning to give. They rammed it again causing the wood to splinter, and a curse of outrage sounded from their enemy as the yard was filled with a swarm of armed men.

He pushed past them, ran through the courtyard, and climbed the steps of the keep bringing down any who dared step in his way. He prayed as he had never prayed before, for strength, for forgiveness. It was he who had left her; he had been foolish, they both had.

She was his life, his everything, and yet he had stormed off as if she was nothing to him and now he pleaded with God that he wasn’t too late.

Heloise swallowed her terror as she looked upon her father-in-law; he radiated hostility as he stomped about the hall. Blessedly, Gunnor had reached the keep. The sounds of battle being waged in the night met her ears as she struggled to keep her wits about her.

Regret seemed to swallow her up, as she feared she would never be able to plead for Gunnor’s forgiveness, to tell him she was sorry. She had called him a coward for not confronting his father properly.

They had both thought his father, the Lord of Reynalds, was still oblivious to his eldest son’s wedding. They had been wrong. Theobald had known, and by the look upon his face he was livid.

The two neighboring keeps had been wrought in hatred for longer than Heloise could remember, and the thought that his eldest son had married the daughter of his enemy was too much for Theobald to stomach. She shuddered as he looked upon her with cold, dark eyes, so like his son’s, yet full of an unspeakable hate.

Theobald pulled at his graying beard and glared at the woman who had stolen the heart of his son. She had destroyed everything he had ever imagined for his eldest son. Gunnor was a strong powerful man who could have been so much and now look at him wed to the enemy. He would not stand for this; he would remedy Gunnor of this vile woman and free his son of a life full of torment.

He pulled his eyes from the wench before him to the newcomer in his hall. The old hag shuffled her bent frame across the rushes to where he stood and offered him a short bow. “My lord has summoned me?” she asked, her aged voice cracking through a toothless, drooping mouth.

“Aye. See you this foul woman?” He pointed to Heloise a sneer upon his lips.

“My lord,” the hag answered, her faded eyes falling upon the woman of whom he spoke.

“I wish her dead,” he stated as if taking her life was an every day matter that meant nothing more to him than ordering his evening meal.

The old woman approached Heloise, reaching up to place a gnarled hand upon her young, smooth face. “So, it comes to this.” She whispered, her rough voice smooth and low, reaching only the ears of Heloise. “Love came easily for you my dear, and now you must fight for it as you never have fought before… or you will wander forever, lost to one another.” She gave Heloise a small smile, holding her gaze even as she spoke to her fuming master. “To take a life such as hers will cost you greatly, my Lord.”

“I care not the cost!” he bellowed, throwing his venom at her. The old woman had been his confidant, his council. She saw things that no other could see, predicted the future and spoke ancient words of the past.

He never went into battle without her telling him he would be victorious, and she had never failed him, not once. She had brought him wealth, honor, favor with the king and above all, power.

“You will, my lord, you will.” She whispered through her aged mouth, turning her gaze from her master’s victim to face the man himself. “Her love for your son is strong, stronger than anything you will ever know. Kill her, and it is you who will suffer. And when you have passed, it will be your children who carry your fate, and their children after them, until there is one who is strong enough to do that which you were not man enough to do this day.” She muttered, then began to cackle at his astonished face.

“Have you cursed me, witch?” Theobald asked, drawing his blade, his anger lit anew.

She only continued to cackle at him until he looked as though he might strike down his victim. “You will lose your son if you kill her, he will never again enter these walls.” She shook her head at the infuriated man before her and left the hall, her shuffling feet fading into the raging sounds outside the wooden walls of the keep.

Heloise watched her go, struggling to understand what it was the old woman had been implying. It had been easy to fall for Gunnor. He was handsome, charming, and had swept her away with a single look. To fight for his love was not something she had to think upon. She would fight for him even if it meant her very life.

The door to the hall burst open, sending a rush of wind into the smoke filled room. Gunnor stood in the doorway, his chest heaving, his dark eyes filled with rage as they swept past Heloise to look upon his father.

“Let her go,” he breathed, his eyes never leaving his father’s face.

“She has forced you to betray me, to turn on your own father,” Theobald spat at his son. He had once thought him to be so great, and now all he saw was a blind man in service to a woman.

“You have done this out of spite. Let the past die, father… allow this to be,” Gunnor pleaded as he looked upon Heloise, silently telling her he was sorry.

“The past will die my son. This woman has brainwashed you, made you believe that you love her and look what has become of it. You have raided your own keep, betraying your own kin. It is by my hand that she will free you to be the man I raised you to be.” He turned on his heel before any could intervene, plunging his blade into the stomach of the woman who had stolen his son from him.

“Heloise!” Gunnor screamed, watching helplessly as she fell to the rushes.

“Fall back!” was shouted from somewhere in the night, beyond the door of the keep. It was Lord Haven who gave the order. They were outnumbered and would last no longer. “Fall back!” he bellowed, his voice echoing in Gunnor’s head, as he crossed the rushes to where his wife lay and gathered her into his arms.

He looked to where his father stood, pale and shaking, his sword still clutched in his hand. “What have you done?” Gunnor asked of the man he had once believed could do no wrong.

“I have saved you from a marriage that would have brought you nothing but sorrow.” Theobald wheezed.

“No…no!” Gunnor screamed. “You were saving yourself! I love her, father. Is nothing sacred to you?” He rose to his feet, holding her close, his eyes fixed upon the twisted face of his father.

“Gunnor,” Heloise whispered from the cradle of his arms, recapturing his attention. “Take me from this place.” He instantly obeyed, turning from the man who had raised him, to take his wife from the gloom held within his father’s hall.

“Where go you, boy?” Theobald bellowed, storming after his son.

“Away from here. This will not be where she takes her last breath,” Gunnor spat over his shoulder as he carried her towards the door.

“As your father I forbid you to leave the keep,” Theobald bellowed, causing Heloise to tremble. Gunnor turned and glared at his father, who was now standing a breath away from him. If his hands had not been full, he would have sent the evil man to his grave as payment for what he had done this night.

“The man I see before me is not my father… I have no father,” Gunnor whispered, then left the keep, walking into the chaos of the night. The battle that had once raged inside the courtyard had now faded. Lord Haven’s men had fled as they had been instructed to do.

Not one of his father’s men paid him mind as he carried his wife from the keep, through the mangled gate and into the night.

He wandered into the forest, heedless of the faded eyes that followed him, looking down on him with sorrow from the tower. The old woman had cursed Theobald and, in doing so, had cursed two that were innocent in their love for one another. The treachery of the Reynalds line must end, and if this was the only way to see that come to pass, then so be it.

She watched them fade into the trees; their love was strong, stronger than any curse she could place upon them. In time, they would discover how to break the bonds that would separate them.

She smiled as Theobald bellowed from the hall below, knowing that it was his curse as well. He too would suffer from what he had done. Not only would he lose his son, but also his sanity, as would any that followed him. His curse would be passed down from generation to generation until there was one brave enough to end it.

The old woman nodded at the couple as they disappeared into the forest vanishing from her sight.

Once concealed deep within the trees, Gunnor knelt upon the soft ground, holding Heloise in his arms. He knew that their time was short; even now her breath was labored as he held her to him for fear that if he released her she would leave him forever.

“Stay with me.” She begged gripping the front of his tunic.

“I will not leave you again, I give you my word,” he vowed softly.

“I am sorry,” she whispered, her eyes fluttering as she struggled to look up at him.

“As am I, it seems we have been foolish of late.” Gunnor smiled at his love, knowing not what to do to help her. “I never should have left you as I did. Had I been with you, this never would have happened,” he apologized, brushing a strand of chestnut hair from her face.

“Hush your fool tongue and speak soft words to me, love.” She did her best to smile through her pain and fear, not wanting him to leave her.

“My darling, my Heloise, I would save you if I had but the power to do so. I love you.” She never answered him. She never spoke of her love, though he was never in doubt of it.

His poor soul racked with sorrow as he looked into her empty eyes, they saw nothing, not his tears, nor his pain as he rocked her, holding her lifeless body to him in agony.

He sobbed out his grief, for he had not the strength to hold it in. He had failed her, and in doing so had lost the only person who ever really mattered in the whole of his life.

“Why!” He screamed into the night, knowing the darkness that encompassed him had not the answers he sought. “Why.”

As the gentle rays of morning fell upon him, he forced his aching arms to release her, carefully laying her upon the dew covered grass of the forest floor. Hours later, he buried his love in a grave he dug with his own hands. When the horrid task was complete, he sat beside the place where his wife now rested, unable to force himself to leave her.

Lord Haven drew his horse to a stop a good five miles from Reynalds, dismounted, and followed his weary feet into the forest. Shortly after he had entered the trees he came upon the trail of a single man wandering into the dense woods, and followed the broken branches and trampled undergrowth, praying that he would find both his daughter and her husband alive and well.

They had been met with a force that greatly outweighed their own. They had been pushed back before he was able to make it to where his daughter was being held. But Gunnor had achieved his goal, pushing his way into the keep. And if it came to be that they were separated, this was where they were to meet, deep in the seclusion of the woods.

He entered a small clearing and his heart lodged in his throat as he took in the sight before him. Gunnor sat beside a mound of rocks. His head in his hands, his shoulders slumped, telling Lord Haven instantly that which he had feared most; his beloved daughter was dead.

“My son,” he whispered, his heart breaking with the sight of the wretched man before him.

“She is gone, my lord,” Gunnor replied from where he sat, never moving or acknowledging his father-in-law.

“Aye,” he whispered as he stepped forward, placing his hand upon Gunnor’s shoulder, knowing he had done all he could to save her. “Come with me, lad, it has been days since you have eaten or slept.” He attempted to help him to his feet, only to have his hands shoved away.

“Nay, leave me,” Gunnor hissed his voice gruff and low.

“There is nothing more you can do for her now.”

“I will not leave her.” He looked up at his father-in-law, his dark eyes red with sorrow, his face pale and ghostly against the bright light of day.

“Gunnor, you loved her as best you could, she knew that, and now you must move on and live. Heloise would not wish for you to suffer because of her.” He watched this young man shake his head, his eyes glistening with fresh sorrow.

“It was not enough,” he murmured in agony. “I failed her my lord, I left her alone as I promised I would never do.” He placed his hands upon the grave, his shoulders shaking with grief. “She was terrified of being alone, terrified. I will not fail her again.”

Lord Haven nodded, knowing he could not force him to leave her. “I love you as a son, Gunnor, know that.” With that said he left the clearing, making his way slowly back to where his men were waiting, his heart was heavy with grief, his soul racked with regret.

They had all known the marriage was risky, but for his daughters sake and her love nothing else had seemed to matter. In his eyes he had seen an end to the violence that had been a part of their lives for more years than he cared to admit. He had accepted Gunnor as his son and loved him for the man that he was, he thought of him as his own and was proud to do so. He had aided the two in hiding their marriage until the time was right that it could be explained to Theobald and the feud of there fathers might be ended. But Theobald had discovered the truth and claimed his vengeance.

Lord Haven took one final glance over his shoulder, sighing deeply with the sight of Gunnor bent in misery over his wife’s grave. They had only wished to love, they had committed no crime, and yet the love they held for one another had cost them everything.

That was the last time he saw Gunnor alive. A fortnight later, he returned with a small party and buried his daughter’s faithful husband in a grave next to hers, making certain that even in death his beloved child was not alone.

He marked their graves with a heart-shaped stone that was placed between them. Etched upon it were words that would never do their love and there death the justice they deserved.

They had found a love that others would covet and they had lost everything because of it. “Rest in peace my children,” Lord Haven whispered as he placed his hand upon the marker, then rose to his feet; the forest of his enemy was no safe place at the moment. Theobald was searching the forests for his son, believing he still lived. When the news of Gunnor’s death reached his father’s ears, there would be hell to pay. Border Haven would be blamed for his death; he must return to his keep, straighten his walls and see that his people were protected.

Lord Haven feared that the feud between their families would now fester into a wound that would consume them all and bring all they had worked so hard to gain crashing in around them.

This petty feud of his fathers’ would bring them all to ruin.

My Lady Witch

2011-04-29T11:35:00.000-07:00

Chapter One

England present day,

They hadn’t all been bad, had they?

Madison rolled her eyes in annoyance at her father’s fist banging on the door, telling her, in his own subtle way, to hurry it up.

Madison sprayed her neck with a bit of perfume, threw the bottle into the bag then slung it over her shoulder and straightened her frame.

“Two weeks,” she whispered to herself. “Two weeks is all you need.” She’d managed to find the perfect school and the perfect scholarship that would help pay for most of tuition and give her the freedom her soul needed from her fathers tormenting presence. He’d made fun of her for choosing dance as a major and told her that no school would want her. Nonetheless she’d been accepted and celebrated her victory alone. But heaven help her to endure just two more weeks.

* * * * *

Madison sat in a rather uncomfortable chair, wide-eyed and barely breathing as her future was laid out before her. The attorney’s mouth was moving, but the words he spoke were unbelievable.

It was then that she noticed her father stumbling across the parking lot, barely managing to remain on his feet.

“I don’t need your help, or anyone’s, your highness.” His gave his daughter a disgusted look, followed by a failed attempt at a bow before reaching deep in his pocket for his keys.

Madison pushed aside his hateful words and reached out a shaking hand for the exposed keys.

“Why don’t you let me drive?” She nearly had the keys from her father’s grasp when he backhanded her smartly across the cheek, the coveted keys he held in his fist jingled with the sudden, violent movement.

An instant burn traveled up her face and into her eyes, causing them to well up with tears, not so much from the pain, but from who had inflicted it. How could he have sunk this low?

Every emotion from hate to pity, welled up within her and in the end, all she could think of was that he was her father. As much as she hated him he was still, and always would be, her father. She couldn’t let him go alone.

He fumbled with the keys a minute longer before finally managing to put the car in motion. He turned away from the city and soon they were driving along in silence down a deserted country lane.

She focused in on her thoughts, trying to think of anything but the scenery speeding by outside her window. In two weeks she would be dancing, she would be happy doing what she loved. She’d started ballroom dancing classes just before her mother abandoned them. All too soon, what was once an extra circular activity turned into her passion and a much-needed escape from the chaos of her world.

She’d found a job that would work around her dancing schedule and free her selfish father from the obligation of supporting his daughter.

She was the last of the Cunningham line, she had no other family, nothing but what was in this car, recklessly speeding down some dusty country lane.

“You must think yourself a lucky girl,” he slurred as he spoke, then took a corner faster than Madison would have liked.

“What?” she asked, clutching her bag to her chest, fearing she’d made a horrible mistake when she got into the car.

“You don’t mean that,” she responded, his hateful words etching their way into her heart, her pale eyes burning with her grief.

“She took me for everything I had, then disappeared leaving me to clean up the mess.” Madison watched the trees fly by and remembered that it was her mother who tried to keep the family afloat while her husband sunk deeper and deeper into his addiction. Her mother tried until she couldn’t try anymore.