Page 123 of A Knight’s Vengeance

“Good.” She swept her frazzled gray braid over her shoulder. “Now, I believe I will tell Lord Brackendale the news. If you have any sense, milady, you will not exhaust my patient with idle chatter. He is still very weak.”

The door closed behind her.

A roguish grin curved Geoffrey’s mouth, and molten heat flowed through Elizabeth. How she had missed his smile.

“’Tis good advice, damsel,” he murmured, as she brushed her lips over his. “My mouth hungers for more than idle chatter.”

After many savored kisses and cherished words, Geoffrey linked his fingers through Elizabeth’s and relished her soft skin against his. Fresh tears scalded his eyes, for she was the one—the only—reason he had fought to live.

The pervasive, suffocating darkness had threatened to drown his consciousness, but he had struggled with every last shred of his will to surface in the light and return to her.

She nuzzled his cheek. “I have much to tell you.”

“I remember naught after I was injured.” Geoffrey shoved aside the painful memory of that moment which seared through his mind and throbbed deep in his wound. “Are we at Wode?”

Elizabeth nodded and told him of the squire Aldwin’s arrest, how Geoffrey was carted to Wode to be healed, of the baron’s manipulation of Aldwin, and Veronique’s attempted murder.

As Geoffrey listened, his anger flared. “The baron will answer to me.” He cursed his infirmity and the bone-deep fatigue that rendered him incapable of storming down to the dungeon, sword in hand, and seeing justice done.

Excitement and a curious sadness shadowed her wet gaze. “There is more.”

“More?”

She freed her fingers from his, crossed the chamber, and retrieved a rolled parchment. Uncurling it, she leaned close and held it up for him to see.

“Your hands are trembling,” he said. “Elizabeth?”

“Read it,” she said, her eyes glistening.

His gaze skimmed the document which bore an official signature, and he forced himself to read. The meaning of the words at last permeated his mind. “A royal pardon!” he whispered.

“There is also a letter from the Earl of Druentwode, explaining why he kept the document secret until his death. Oh, Geoffrey, you were right. Your father was innocent. The baron framed him for treachery, and cut him down during the siege.”

Rage, anguish, and hatred blinded Geoffrey. “I will kill him! Bring him here. Now!” The effort of shouting sent acute pain stabbing through his torso. His vision blurred. He gritted his teeth against the mind-numbing agony and tried to rise.

“Geoffrey, stop!” Elizabeth shrilled.

Through the eerie buzzing in his ears, he heard the chamber door open. “Milord!” Mildred’s hands were on his shoulders, easing him down on the pillows as she would a weak child. She pressed a flask to his lips and bade him drink.

Frustration and helplessness ripped into his soul. He cried out in fury, and Elizabeth leaned over him and pressed her tear-soaked mouth to his. Tender, persistent, she kissed, soothed, and coaxed him to set the emotions free.

He could fight no longer. The sobs wrenched from him as they had that terrible night eighteen years ago, when his father had perished. He wept until he was hoarse, and had no more tears to give.

He must have fallen asleep, for when his eyes cracked open, Dominic stood beside the bed, looking down at him.

A relieved smile spread across his friend’s face. “’Tis good to see you, milord.”

Geoffrey cleared the thickness from his throat. “And you.”

Scratching his chin, Dominic tipped his head to one side. “You do look a bit pale, but a few pints of ale would cure that.”

Mildred gave an indignant snort. After shooting Dominic a fierce scowl, she snatched up her basket and quit the chamber.

Smothering a grin, Geoffrey watched the healer leave, then glanced at Elizabeth, who sat embroidering near the fire. She met his gaze and smiled.

Pride flowed through him. His life had changed a great deal, and all for the better, because of her. He vowed to spend the rest of his living days proving how much he loved her. “What are you doing?” he murmured.

“Finishing the saddle trapping. Do you not remember?”