Page 104 of A Knight’s Vengeance

When he saw the woman standing in the shadow of one of the watchtowers, tucking a chestnut curl under her mantle’s hood, his scowl deepened. Veronique. He had guessed she was the one who had betrayed him, but the confirmation stung. She cast him a gloating smile before turning and crossing the drawbridge to join the soldiers guarding the moat.

A harsh grin slanted Brackendale’s mouth, as though he had read Geoffrey’s thoughts. “You thought I did not know about Elizabeth?”

Rage and anguish blazed in Brackendale’s eyes, and Geoffrey guessed Veronique’s words had not been favorable or true. “Lord Brackendale⁠—”

“Bastard!” The older lord spat. “You will pay for deceiving me. You will suffer for every wretched moment I wasted riding to Tillenham. Above all, you will pay for dishonoring my daughter.”

“I did naught she did not want.”

Brackendale thrust his sword deeper. “You lie!”

Pain radiated through Geoffrey’s flesh. He gritted his teeth and fought the battle yell burning in his throat. He would not attack first.

“You will die like a dog,” Brackendale snarled, spittle foaming at his mouth. “Take a good look around you, for ’twill be your last.” He whipped his blade up and back, poised to lop Geoffrey’s head from his shoulders.

Geoffrey drew his sword.

“Father! Nay!”

Brackendale’s arm jerked. With an awkward turn of his wrist, he halted the sword’s arc and stared in the direction of the piercing cry.

Geoffrey dared to look as well. Elizabeth ran out of the forebuilding, her bliaut flapping about her legs, her tresses streaming out behind her. He would die before he let the baron place a hand on her delicate, scented skin.

She ran to Brackendale’s side. “Father.”

As the older lord reached down and smoothed her tousled hair, his hand shook. “Elizabeth. Thank God you are all right.”

Sedgewick sighed with relief. “Beloved.”

Elizabeth did not even glance at the baron. “Father, please,” she said, her skin ashen in the sunlight. “No one has to die.”

Her gaze turned to Geoffrey, and he steeled his heart against the distress in her eyes, moist with tears. He flexed his hold on his sword’s grip, resenting the sweat on his palms. No matter what he felt for her, he must not allow her to distract him or sway him from vengeance.

His blood buzzed with anticipation. The vow he had shouted years ago, that had branded his soul, echoed in his mind. I will avenge you, Father. God’s holy blood, I will avenge you.

“Get to safety, Elizabeth,” Brackendale ordered in a gruff voice. “You need not witness the fight.”

“Please, listen to me.”

The older lord placed a firm hand upon her shoulder. “I will kill him first. I will see him dead, for all he has done to you.”

Elizabeth’s eyes flew wide. “Nay! He⁠—”

“Do as he says, damsel,” Geoffrey murmured.

She gaped at him, looking stunned. Wounded. “Geoffrey?”

“Pah! You address this cur by his Christian name?” Brackendale sneered.

“He is as human as you, Father,” cried Elizabeth. “You must heed me. Lay down your sword. Let me explain.”

Brackendale signaled to two of his knights. Despite Elizabeth’s struggles, they pulled her back into his soldiers’ ranks.

“Father!” she screamed. “Stop!”

The knights held her firm.

Geoffrey shuddered. He hated to hear her distress, but at least she would be protected from any harm.