Page 284 of Redemption Arc Romance

Brandt watched with regret as she gingerly picked her way across the muddy, rutted road and back towards the inn. She was absolutely soaked and trying to avoid dragging her dripping surcoat through the dirt. As he stood there and debated what to do, the door to the inn flew open and the knight that Ellowyn had stabbed in the hand came barreling through.

The man was all fire and curses, shoving men out of the way that didn’t move fast enough. The bloodied hand flailed through the air like a monument to his injury, held high for all to see. But the moment he spied Ellowyn in the middle of the street, his manner changed. He went from simple rage to a deadly malevolence all in a split-second. He may have even growled.Ellowyn had her head down and didn’t see the man as he headed right for her.

“You are brave when your husband is about,” he snarled. “Does your bravery hold true when you are alone, you little bitch?”

Ellowyn’s head snapped up at the sound of the voice, her eyes widening with fright when she saw who had uttered it. Her escort picked that moment to round the corner of the inn, having no idea of the danger she was in. They were only focused on her and not the angry knight advancing on her. Ellowyn tried to back away from the knight but was hindered by her very heavy and very wet skirt. She ended up stepping on the hem and falling to her backside as the knight closed in on her.

She might have uttered a cry because her escort was suddenly moving very quickly in her direction, but before they could reach her, a massive form moved between her and the advancing knight. She couldn’t see much other than big, armored legs, and then she heard a strangled grunt followed by the sounds of something snapping. A body hit the ground next to her, splattering mud, and she shrieked.

Startled, she looked over to see the knight with the bloodied hand lying in a heap next to her, and he was quite dead. His head was bent at an odd angle and, horrified, she looked up to see de Russe standing over her. Before she could say a word, he reached down and pulled her to her feet.

“Are you all right, my lady?” he asked. “Did you hurt yourself?”

Ellowyn was feeling disoriented, astonished and sickened. Everything she could possibly feel all rolled into one. Her exhaustion, coupled by the events, all fell in line and before she realized it, she was feeling rather woozy. She couldn’t look at the man with the snapped neck on the ground next to her and she tried to turn away, but she couldn’t quite catch her balance. Shecould see the trough in front of her and she thought she might make her way to it and sit down again, simply to collect herself, but her body had other ideas. She hadn’t taken two steps when the world faded to black.

CHAPTER FOUR

It was thatfield again, the one with the men dying upon it, as plentiful as driftwood upon the sea.

She was slugging through the bloody mud, trying not to step on the dead and avoiding the desperate hands of the dying. She should have felt guilty for ducking those who needed care, but she couldn’t manage it. All she could feel was a desperate yearning to seek out something, something that drew her to it like a moth to flame. She could think of nothing else and her heart was near bursting with fear and anxiety because of it. God, if she could only find it!

The bottom half of her surcoat, shift, and cloak were soaked with mud that smelled like the bowels of Hell. The stench was everywhere. She thought perhaps she would smell that scent forever, like a fog that would never leave her. It was horrifying. As she pushed through it, her cloak snagged on something and as she reached down to yank it free, a hand grabbed at her from one of the countless bodies strewn about and took hold of her glove. He yanked it off as she drew her hand back in horror. Her naked hand, exposed to the dark and heavy hair, glinted oddly. Gazing at her exposed flesh, she could see a ring on it.

A wedding ring.

*

Something was poppingand crackling, and there was a great deal of warmth on her face. Ellowyn gradually became aware of heaton her body and the smell of smoke, and her eyes rolled open to the sight of an enormous fire a few feet in front of her.

Somewhat startled, she pulled away from it, realizing that she was laying on a floor in only her shift. It was dirty and cold. Her heavy brocade surcoat was hanging above her head on exposed rafters, drying in the heat of the blaze.

Confused, frightened, she looked around the small, dark room. She had no idea where she was, or what had happened, but as she rolled into a sitting position, bits of her memory began to return. She remembered the inn, the aggressive knight, and de Russe’s appearance. Hand to her aching head, she remembered tripping on the road when the aggressive knight came after her but nothing after that. Looking around the small room again that smelled heavily of unwashed bodies, she had no idea what was going on.

Standing up unsteadily, she reached up for her surcoat and realized that it was wet. Parts of it that were nearer the fire seemed to be warm and moderately dry, but other parts were almost sopping. Curious, she was in the process of fingering it when the door to the chamber jerked open.

Startled, Ellowyn jumped away from the door. Her first instinct was to protect herself and she grabbed the first thing she could find, which happened to be a well-used ash shovel propped up near the hearth. She raised it like a club just as a giant figure emerged from the dark hallway and into the weak light of the room.

It was de Russe. He spied Ellowyn pressed against the far wall with a small, dented shovel in her hand. She was poised, ready to brain him if he came any closer. He paused in the open door, inspecting the woman who was half-illuminated by the firelight.

“Are you planning on using that?” he asked somewhat drolly.

He was nodding his head in the direction of the shovel. Ellowyn’s attention flickered between Brandt’s face and the spade in her hands, not wanting to admit that it looked rather ridiculous. It was like trying to fight off a bull with a twig. But she didn’t lower the shovel.

“That depends,” she said. “What am I doing here?”

He came into the room, slowly, and shut the door. He didn’t want to make any sudden movements because he could see that she was genuinely frightened.

“I brought you here,” he said. “You fainted.”

Ellowyn thought hard on her last memories of the angry knight and de Russe’s involvement in… something. She couldn’t quite remember. After a moment, she shook her head.

“I do not remember much,” she admitted. “What happened?”

Brandt shrugged. “You were overwrought, I assume,” he said. “You fainted in the street so I brought you back to the inn and secured a room. You were wet so I put you in front of the fire to dry off.”

Her gaze flicked up to the hanging surcoat. “Did… did you remove the coat?”

He nodded. “I did, but one of the tavern wenches assisted. Never was I alone with you, I swear.”