Chapter Thirteen

N ever would he forget the sight of Velaria's face when Brian reached down to her, disguised as a guard. He'd lowered a rope and had lifted her up from the pit.

‘You came for me,' she breathed, embracing him tightly.

‘I swore I would always come for you. And I keep my vows.'

His wife was covered in mud and soaked, but he brought her into the nearby tent, knowing the other guards had gone to sleep elsewhere after he'd bribed them. With the heavy rainstorm, they'd readily agreed to let him keep watch over the prisoners.

‘Savas, what are we—?'

He cut off her words and kissed her, pulling her body against his. ‘Trust me.'

‘With my life,' she answered.

‘Then take off your clothes.'

She eyed him with confusion. ‘Savas, I don't know if this is the best time...' But regardless, she started to unlace her gown.

It was then that he showed her the chainmail armour with the cowl to hide her hair. It was the best disguise he could come up with, for in an encampment with seven thousand men, she could walk freely among them.

A smile caught her. ‘For a moment, I thought you were wanting something else.'

‘I always desire you, Velaria.' Already, he was entirely too distracted with his wife stripping off her clothing. To prove his point, when she reached for her shift, he pushed her hands aside. He caught her mouth in a deep kiss as he lifted the sodden garment slowly. His hands caressed her hips, moving slowly over her stomach to the softness of her breasts. He took his time removing the shift, stroking her nipples and pulling her body close to his as he took it off.

‘If we had another hour,' he murmured against her lips. With reluctance, he let her go, gritting his teeth when he saw her bend over to put on trews and a light shirt beneath the armour.

But soon enough, she had covered her hair beneath the cowl. When she reached for the helm, she now looked like just another soldier.

‘Can you bear the weight of the armour?' he asked. Although she was slim and strong, she would have to walk among the others without slouching.

‘I can.' She accepted the sword he gave her and looked back into his eyes. ‘Now tell me the rest of your plan.'

It was now time to enact the second part of their strategy. In the darkness before dawn, Brian borrowed clothing from Robert and dressed himself as a nobleman. It was armour of a different sort, and he was prepared to fight the next battle. Once again, he walked towards the king's tent to speak on her behalf.

But when he arrived, the hum of disorganised activity was evident. Good. After Velaria had gone missing, there would be no execution. He'd left her on the opposite side of the encampment amid other soldiers while he walked with Robert towards the king's tent. But before they arrived, he saw the new Baron Marwood.

Robert sent him a sidelong glance, but Brian kept his emotions restrained. Velaria was safe, and that was all that mattered for now. What he needed to do was ensure the king's pardon—and that meant facing the baron.

‘I've been wanting to speak with you, Lord Marwood,' Brian began. ‘About my wife.'

The new baron straightened, but there was no remorse upon his face. ‘Justice must be served for what she did.'

Robert stepped in. ‘But you're not at all displeased about your father's death, are you?' He studied the baron and added, ‘As the heir to the Marwood estates, you finally have the title you've always wanted. And from what I've heard, your father's lands have yielded a poor harvest during the past few years. You're also in need of an heiress to help you pay the king's taxes.'

A thin sneer spread over the man's face. ‘I had intended to wed Velaria of Ardennes.' With a gloating look, he added, ‘I convinced her to run away with me.' He turned back to Brian. ‘But you already know this, don't you?'

The taunt was a vicious reminder of how he'd hurt Velaria, and the need for vengeance burned within Brian.

He tightened his grip over his temper and answered, ‘Velaria's father refused to grant his permission or a dowry,' he said. ‘It seems he was right to do so.'

‘She was worth nothing to me without a dowry.' The baron glanced at Brian. ‘But even so, I still had her first. She willingly gave me her innocence.'

Without thinking, Brian struck the man across the face, damning the consequences. ‘You will never speak of her in that way again.'

Blood ran from the baron's nose, and his eyes blazed with fury as he unsheathed his sword. ‘I'll speak of her however I choose.'

Fury flooded through his veins, and Brian circled Drogan. He would not step aside or ignore this fight. This nobleman believed his bloodline made him the better man, but he'd abused and abandoned Velaria. She deserved retribution for what he'd done to her.

‘You will only speak of her with respect, as she deserves,' Brian said softly.

‘I'm going to make you bleed,' the baron spat. ‘And when you're dead, I will take your wife.'

The words were another weapon, but Brian refused to rise to the bait. The very air seemed to still, and the heat of the afternoon sun reminded him of Constantinople. The only difference was the weight of his armour and the knowledge that he would never again be any man's slave. He was a man of honour, a king's son and a husband. Perhaps one day, he would become a father.

Drogan was a well-trained knight, and he wore the armour like a second skin. His golden hair glinted in the sun, and his brown eyes held hatred.

When the baron swung his sword towards Brian's head, he blocked the blow and stared back at the man. ‘You will never lay a hand upon Velaria again.'

‘And you will never again try to give orders to an overlord,' Drogan said. ‘I'm going to kill you.'

‘You can try,' he said. ‘But I have faced hundreds of opponents far more skilled than you.'

Drogan's movements became erratic as he went on the offensive, striking swiftly and with brutal strength. With each one, Brian met the blow and deflected it. For now, he intended to measure his enemy's skills.

But when Drogan struck his sword towards Brian's scarred shoulder, he had to move his body to parry the blow. Although it was slightly better, the old injury prevented him from fully turning his blade.

He tried to avoid a second strike, but Drogan noticed the weakness. He continued the swift slices, forcing Brian to move backwards.

Several soldiers encircled them, but none made any move to stop the fight. Brian defended himself, and before the baron could land another strike with his blade, he reminded himself that he had survived death, day after day in the fighting pits. He had fought for his life like a gladiator from the stories of old—and now he had the chance to avenge Velaria's honour.

The blade came towards him, and he struck the ground, letting Drogan believe that he'd found his weakness.

‘Men more skilled than me?' the baron taunted. ‘I don't think you've ever fought a trained knight before.'

Brian held his position, waiting for the right moment...almost there...

Abruptly, he rolled back to his feet and threw a clump of mud at Drogan's face. Instinctively, the man flinched, and Brian used the advantage to go on the offensive, his blade moving towards his enemy's as if it were sliding through water. He used the fighting techniques of the East, using Drogan's movements against him until the baron appeared clumsy.

Over and over, he moved his sword until at last, Drogan's attention flickered, and Brian disarmed him. He held his blade to the baron's throat.

‘You are going to ask the king for an audience and tell him that you've decided to grant Velaria mercy,' he said evenly.

‘If you think I'll intervene for her sake, you're mistaken,' the baron spat.

Brian gripped the man by his throat and kept the sword pointed at the soft flesh. ‘Oh, you will indeed. Or no heiress will ever wed you. You've inherited an estate of debts and poverty, Lord Marwood. And we will ensure that everyone knows it.'

‘You have no power or influence in England,' the man scoffed.

‘But I do,' came the voice of Sir Ademar. A breath of relief filled Brian as he saw Velaria's father step forward. He didn't know where the knight had come from, but he was grateful for the man's presence. Before Brian could greet him, another familiar voice joined in.

‘And so do we.'

Brian turned and saw Piers Grevershire, the Earl of Penrith and Tilmain, standing alongside his wife, Gwendoline. Robert grinned, embracing his half brother. ‘How did you ever arrive in time?'

‘Because I told my husband I wanted to visit Morwenna and our new niece.' Gwendoline stepped forward and from her swollen figure, she was clearly with child. ‘We arrived only a day after you left Dunbough. Morwenna told us what happened, and I told Piers we should intervene for your sake.'

A surge of thankfulness filled Brian as his new family surrounded him. When he turned back to Lord Marwood, he said, ‘It would be wise if you would reconsider speaking to the king.' To emphasise his words, he pressed his blade against the man's throat until a thin line of blood welled upon his skin.

‘If you do not, I will p-personally use my influence to ruin you,' Sir Ademar vowed. ‘This is your only chance at redemption f-for what you did to my daughter.'

Drogan's face was purple with anger. ‘Do you think I will let a knight or a king's bastard tell me what to do? I am not your serf to command. I am an English lord, and I do not take your commands.'

Brian turned to face the baron with his own blade. ‘You also lost this fight. I suggest that you obey our orders before you lose your future.' He wished he could kill the man for what Drogan had done, but they needed his cooperation right now.

The other men flanked him as Brian gripped the man's arm and marched him towards the king's tent. Drogan's nose was still bleeding, and he stared forward with defiance. There was still a grave risk that the man would not speak on Velaria's behalf—but their time had run out.

They were granted permission to enter the king's tent a few moments later. King John glared at Brian and turned the full force of his rage on him. ‘How do you dare defy us? My soldiers said that your wife escaped last night.'

Brian met the king's fury evenly. ‘She did not leave, Your Excellency. Last night, she was moved away from the other prisoners for her own protection.' The lie slipped easily from him, for he had no intention of Velaria becoming a captive again. With any luck, she was concealed among hundreds of other soldiers. But his words did little to appease the king's anger.

‘We will not tolerate such disobedience,' John snapped.

Drogan stepped forward then, though it seemed he'd been shoved by one of the men. He stiffened as Piers came up behind him. ‘My liege, I...ask you to reconsider the lady's execution.' His words were gritted out, as if he didn't want to speak at all. Brian glimpsed the flash of a hidden blade in Piers's hand.

‘Under the laws of Ireland, we have offered the baron corp dire for his father's death,' Robert said smoothly. ‘He has decided to accept the body price.'

The king's expression tightened as he regarded Lord Marwood. ‘Only yestereve, I sentenced her to die, and you gave your support.'

The man's expression grew uncomfortable. ‘I believe it...will serve both of us better if we show mercy, my liege.'

‘You are hoping to profit from this,' the king said, eyeing Sir Ademar, Robert, and Piers. ‘But your father owed us a great deal in taxes.' Then he added, ‘I suppose the corp dire will allow you to repay his debts.'

Brian stepped forward and bowed. ‘Lord Penrith, Lord Dunbough, and I have also come to pledge our loyalty, Your Grace.' A moment later, he continued. ‘I know you have come to unite the Irish people, as well as Normans, under your reign,' Brian answered. ‘If you grant my wife mercy and the opportunity to make reparations, we would be grateful.'

Before the king could speak, Brian got down on one knee before his father. ‘We are united in blood and marriage, my liege.'

‘Over the life of one woman?' the king mused.

‘We are family,' Brian said softly. ‘And since your blood flows in my veins, that loyalty runs true. Give us the opportunity to prove our worth.'

Velaria continued walking among a group of soldiers, careful not to reveal herself in any way. Savas had cautioned her to find her way south, to the edge of the tents. She was about to break away from the men, when their commander stopped in front of her. ‘I don't know your face. Who are you, and where is Aelfrid?'

She dropped her voice as low as she could. ‘I took his place.'

‘By whose orders?'

Her heartbeat stuttered as she fumbled for an answer. ‘By his.' She pointed to a mounted knight, even knowing it was unlikely the commander would believe her.

His eyes narrowed. ‘I don't tolerate lies. Where is he?' He strode towards her, and Velaria slipped past the men and began running. It was better if she fled now and tried to blend in with another crowd than risk being caught.

The weight of the heavy chainmail slowed her down, but she hurried past one tent, then another. When she escaped their view, she joined behind another group of soldiers, standing amid them before she moved again.

There were horses near the edge of the encampment, some already saddled. If she could reach even one of them, she could try to ride away. Her lungs burned from exertion, but she darted around one tent, then another. Behind her, she could hear commands for someone to stop her, but she wore the same armour as every other soldier. Her only hope was to blend in among them to escape. Stealing a horse would have to be a last resort.

But when she finally reached the last row of tents, another group of soldiers was waiting for her. Their swords were unsheathed, their shields held in readiness.

Her heart sank as she regarded them. They expected her to surrender, but her hand rested upon her own weapon as she considered her choices.

Their leader was mounted on horseback. ‘You know the punishment for desertion.'

And so, she decided to remove some of her armour to make it easier to run. She removed her helm with the other hand and tore off the heavy mail cowl. Her hair flowed freely about her shoulders as she faced them. Her only hope was that they would hesitate if they knew she was a woman.

‘Our missing prisoner,' the commander remarked. ‘Take her.'

Velaria waited as the men approached. She had only one chance to win her freedom, and she intended to fight for it.

When the first two men charged at her, she seized the commander's reins and pulled hard on the horse. He started to lose his balance, and she shoved him back with her shield, knocking him down. Within a moment, she swung up on the animal and slashed downward with her blade, pushing back the soldiers who were trying to take her. She struck another man's sword and sliced a gash in his forearm when he wasn't fast enough with his shield.

The horse reared when one tried to take the reins, but she held her seat and urged it away. She leaned low in the saddle as the animal obeyed and started galloping away from the encampment.

But then suddenly, all along the horizon, she saw an army of Irish forces lined up. The morning sunlight gleamed upon their armour, and she recognised the colours of the MacEgan tribe. She could not count the number of men advancing, but six men led their armies, and she saw King Patrick surrounded by his brothers and his son Liam.

Velaria sheathed her sword and increased her speed, riding as fast as she could towards the men. It was a risk that the soldiers might pursue her, or worse, try to shoot her with an arrow. She was careful to change her horse's direction as she rode, hoping to avoid being captured. But thankfully, the soldiers did not follow—instead, they created a line of defence on the edge of the encampment. They kept their weapons drawn, their shields side by side.

Velaria reached Patrick, who wore a golden circlet upon his head to proclaim his rank as an Irish king. He motioned for her to go behind them, and she joined her aunt Honora among the female fighters.

‘Why did they come?' she asked. She couldn't imagine so many MacEgan fighters travelling here for her sake.

‘We are here to remind the king of our strength and the advantages of our alliance,' Honora answered. ‘And for Mairead.'

‘Mairead? Is she all right?' Concern rose within her for her cousin's sake. She hadn't seen the young woman since the day she'd been found at Ennisleigh.

Honora's expression turned serious. ‘All I can say is that her father will not let anyone harm her. And King John will lose éireann if he does not honour the ties among us.'

Patrick continued riding towards the English soldiers, flanked by his brothers and his son. Velaria noticed a chest that several men carried beside them. In a loud voice, the Irish king proclaimed, ‘We have come to remind King John of our alliance and to bring tribute to His Grace. Let us pass.'

The soldiers hesitated, but one of the commanders ordered the men to allow them entrance. He ordered their formation to shift until two lines of soldiers guarded against Patrick and his brothers. Within moments, they created a pathway for the king and his men.

Behind them, Velaria saw her father and Brian riding in front, along with Robert and another man. Even as the MacEgans continued their way forward, Velaria only had eyes for her husband.

Savas continued riding until he reached her side. With both hands, he framed her face and caught her mouth in a fierce kiss. ‘The king has accepted the corp dire for your life,' he said, ‘and has granted his mercy.'

Velaria caught him in her embrace, feeling the surge of relief. ‘Thank God.'

She embraced him hard, but he flinched slightly, as if his shoulder pained him. When she drew back, she noticed that he had a nick upon his face, as if he'd been fighting. ‘What happened?' She touched the spot of blood to emphasise her question.

‘Drogan of Marwood made the mistake of challenging me to a fight. He won't bother you again.'

‘You didn't—'

He shook his head. ‘He's alive but deeply indebted to the king with taxes his father didn't pay. Ademar, Robert, and King Patrick have paid the body price on your behalf, and King John was more than willing to accept.' He stroked her hair, and his touch brought her a comfort she couldn't name. ‘If Drogan dares threaten you again, he will die. I swear it.'

His vow of protection twined within her, and she couldn't stop the words from coming forth. ‘I love you, Savas,' she murmured, touching her forehead to his.

‘I would fight any man for your sake,' he answered. ‘I wanted to protect you from the first moment I saw you. And I want us to spend the rest of our lives together.' He kissed her again softly. ‘I love you, Velaria. And when we're alone again, I intend to show you how much.'

She breathed in the scent of this man, savouring his arms around her. Her other questions were silenced when her husband leaned in against her ear and whispered all the things he intended to do to her later that night.

They had travelled north alongside the king's men during the past few days, only turning west when the king stopped at Carrickfergus. The MacEgans were already returning south, but Velaria suspected Mairead was with them now since there was no haste in their journey.

She had met Piers, a stoic man who had been like a brother to her husband. His wife, Lady Gwendoline, brought her horse up beside hers, but Velaria noticed that the woman's face appeared pained. She also appeared to be pregnant.

‘Are you all right?' Velaria asked. ‘Do you need to stop?'

‘It's all right. This is our third child, and we'll be stopping soon enough,' Gwendoline replied. ‘I left our twins with Morwenna in Dunbough.' She rubbed her swollen abdomen. ‘I imagine they are terrorising her, even now.'

‘I'm surprised your husband allowed you to travel.'

Gwendoline sent her a secret smile. ‘Piers doesn't "allow" me to do anything. Oh, he argues with me, that's for certain. But I have my own ways of convincing him. And I know he missed his brother Robert and Morwenna, so I told him we would come visit.' She eyed Velaria and said, ‘Will you be living at Dunbough with them? Or would you prefer to return to England?'

‘I don't know where Savas wants us to go,' she admitted. ‘We intend to visit Staunton, and my father has also invited us to dwell at Ardennes.' But she would follow her husband anywhere in the world.

‘Why do you call him Savas?' Gwen asked. Curiosity shone on her face.

‘He earned that name in the arenas of Constantinople. He was the greatest fighter within the city. I want him to remember that, even when others try to treat him as a serf.'

A warm smile came over the woman's face. ‘Savas. It's a warrior's name, isn't it?'

Velaria nodded. ‘It is.' She'd heard about her husband's fight with Drogan from Robert, and she wished she could have witnessed it for herself. But it warmed her to know that he'd done what he could to avenge her honour.

Soon enough, Savas drew his horse beside hers. After murmuring a greeting to Gwen, he said, ‘We're going to stop for the night, near that stream. We should reach Dunbough in the morning.'

Gwen wisely moved her horse back towards Piers and winked at Velaria as she rode to her husband's side. Savas took the reins and led her a slight distance away from the others.

‘Where are we going?' she asked.

‘Away from everyone else,' he muttered. ‘It's been too long since I've held you. And I don't want our tent anywhere near the others.'

Velaria rode alongside him towards a nearby forest, and his urgency made her smile. The moment they reached the trees, he pulled her off the horse and crushed her into his embrace. His mouth claimed hers in a storm of wild demand. She kissed him back, and he pulled her so close, she could feel the heat of his desire.

A rush of sensation slid beneath her skin, making her yearn for him. For a moment, he continued kissing her as if he couldn't get enough. When he pulled back at last, he said, ‘I was never going to let you die, Velaria. I would have done anything to save your life—even take your place.'

She reached up to touch his face. ‘I'm glad you didn't.' But the thought of him sacrificing himself for her sake was unthinkable. ‘We survived, just as we did in Constantinople. But now, we're going to live , Savas.'

He caught her hand in his and covered it. ‘Aye, we will.' Then he moved both his hands over her shoulders and down to her waist, where they lingered. He bent to kiss her throat, and shivers erupted over her skin. ‘Wherever you want to go.'

She took him by the hand and led him deeper into the shadows of the oak grove. ‘I have a place in mind. At least, for now.'

In his eyes, she saw the fierce need, and in the shadows, she began unlacing her gown. He caught her hands and brushed them aside. ‘Let me.'

Within moments, she was naked, and he stripped off his own clothing, lowering her upon his cloak. The scent of pine and leaves surrounded them, and she welcomed her husband into her arms. With his lips and his hands, he worshipped her body, causing her to arch with her softness against his strength.

And when he filled her body with his own, she moved against him, loving this man. His mouth covered her erect nipple, and the echo of sensation ached between her legs. He moved within her, slowly and deeply, until she felt the tremors rising from within her.

She reached up to touch his shoulder, and as he thrust and withdrew, she arched to meet him. He sheathed himself fully and held still as he stroked her hooded flesh. Her breathing grew ragged as he circled her, pressing gently until the delicious sensation rose hotter and she squeezed his length deep inside.

Then he began to move again, and she inhaled with a shuttered cry as he penetrated deeper. He quickened his pace, thrusting inside until the wave of release broke through, and she sobbed with the intensity of her pleasure. He followed her a moment later, panting hard as he spilled himself within her. Then he lay down, covering her body with his own.

Velaria's heartbeat thundered as she wrapped her legs around his waist. ‘I don't care where we go, Savas. As long as we're together.'

He kissed her gently. ‘I would walk across the world for you.'

And as he rested against her, their bodies tangled together, she made a promise of her own—to love this man with everything in her.