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Chapter 10
Sir Gregory Arundell was the last person in the world that Maira wanted to see right now. Especially in her bed!
“My lord,” she said in surprise, not knowing why he was there or what he wanted.
“I came to escort you to the great hall for the meal,” he drawled. “When there was no answer at the door, I entered to find you were missing again.”
“I didn’t leave the castle walls, honest, I didn’t,” she told him, not wanting to be punished again. “I just went out for a walk in the courtyard to see the sunrise.”
“Really? It’s funny none of my men saw you there.” He slid off the bed and that’s when she noticed his sword attached to his waist belt. He noticed she wore hers as well. “Is it common for you to walk for pleasure inside the security of the castle walls saddled down with weapons I told you not to wear again?”
“I always wear my weapons. They were given to me by my father and make me feel comforted.”
“We both know damned well that the jeweled dagger was not given to you by your father. That belonged to my wife, Lady Catherine. It was stolen years ago and I think I know who did it.” He stepped closer to her and she took a step away.
“I am sure I don’t know what you mean.”
“Who gave it to you?”
“It was given to me as a gift at Rothbury. It was from a titled man although I can’t remember his name.” What she said wasn’t all a lie, just a twisted version of the truth.
“Are you sure it wasn’t from a thief by the name of Jacob? Because if I find you have been meeting with him in secret, there will be hell to pay.”
“Who is Jacob?” she asked, trying to keep the quaver from her voice as well as to sound convincing that she had no idea of the man. “I don’t know who you mean.”
“Sir Jacob Quincey is now nothing more than an outcast and a thief because he murdered a bishop three years ago, as well as tried to steal my wife.”
“He did what?” She hadn’t known about the wife part.
“That’s right.” The man straightened his tunic and fixed his weapon belt. “He’s a murderer who likes to steal things that don’t belong to him. You’d do well to remember that. Now, give me my late wife’s dagger.” He held out his open palm. When she did nothing to hand it over, he reached for it.
“Nay,” she said, pulling her sword from the sheath on her back. It was an involuntary reaction for her to draw her blade whenever she felt threatened. But when she saw the look of anger in the High Sheriff’s eyes, she wished she hadn’t reacted so quickly.
“You’d better not pull a blade on me unless you intend to use it. So, let’s see how good you are with the thing.” He chuckled and drew his sword, lunging for her in one swift motion. He took her by surprise. If she hadn’t moved to the side quickly, he would have struck her.
“You’d really strike down your own betrothed?” she spat. “What kind of a man are you?”
“What kind of a woman are you that you carry so many weapons and then refuse to use them? Fight me, or I’ll have you flayed.”
“I cannot believe what I’m hearing.”
“Do it,” growled the man, lunging at her again.
This time, Maira didn’t hesitate. She raised her sword and blocked his blow. The sound of metal clashing against metal echoed through the room. He continued to come after her, backing her into a corner.
“Not bad . . . for a wench!” he commented with a chuckle. Then he came at her fast and furious as if he had gone mad. She did all she could to hold him off, but with her back against the wall and nowhere to go, there wasn’t much she could do.
He reached out and flung her to the ground and then covered her body with his. “I will break your spirit, wench, one way or another.” He forced his dry, cracked lips upon hers as he kissed her. She closed her eyes and turned her head, unable to move because he had her pinned down. She was a small woman and without her weapons she was no match for any man.
Not wanting to succumb to the evil man, she did whatever she could to stop him. She bit his lip, drawing blood. The iron tang assaulted her tongue. He screamed out and sat up. When he did, she brought her knee up to meet with his groin. When he doubled over in pain, she shot to her feet, grabbing her sword once again.
“My lord,” came a man’s voice from outside the door.
“What is it?” the High Sheriff yelled, holding one hand to his groin and the other to his lip.
“The men are in the practice yard waiting for you so they can begin.”
“This is far from over,” snapped Sir Gregory through gritted teeth, getting to his feet. He reached out and snatched the jeweled dagger from her. Rather than fight him again, she let him have it. “Now, take off your sword and daggers and put them on the bed. I will send one of my guards to collect them.”
