Page 2 of A Knight’s Vengeance

With trembling fingers, he reached out and closed his father’s sightless eyes.

Geoffrey sobbed, shoved to his feet, and staggered to the doorway. Rage and grief burned like hellfire in the pit of his stomach. “I will avenge you, Father,” he cried toward the night sky shrouded with fog. “God’s holy blood, I will avenge you!”

CHAPTER 1

EIGHTEEN YEARS LATER

“Alove potion, dove? An elixir ta ease yer lonely heart?”

“Not this day, thank you.” Lady Elizabeth Brackendale strolled past the one-eyed peddler waving flasks and vials. As she sidestepped a mound of manure, she sighed. Love potion, indeed. Her heart’s afflictions could not be cured in that manner.

Behind her, she heard the voices and booted footsteps of her lady-in-waiting and two armed guards. What a nuisance the men-at-arms were, an unwelcome reminder of the perilous future.

Elizabeth shivered, skirted two men arguing over a spilled crate of onions, and walked further into the crowded market square. She would not spoil this rare, glorious day that her father had allowed her to leave Wode’s fortified walls. She would not worry about the lord rumored to be plotting vengeance against her sire, a rogue named Geoffrey de Lanceau.

Her father would deal with him.

Tipping her face into the breeze, she inhaled a waft of ripe vegetables, wood smoke, and horse. Ahead, men unloaded cartloads of cloth and spices, jugglers performed for a laughing crowd, and merchants hawked their wares. What a glorious mélange of smells, sights, and sounds. How she had missed her visits to the market.

Apprehension, cold as bone fingers, trailed down her spine. If only battle were not looming in the days ahead. If anything happened to her father …

She shoved the thought aside. When necessary, he would summon his armies, crush de Lanceau, and peace would again rule Moydenshire. Her father could not fail with Baron Sedgewick of Avenley and his armies at his side.

Baron Sedgewick. Her betrothed.

In seven days, her husband.

Fluttering strips of cloth lured her toward a stall. Blinking away tears, she paused and fingered a blood red ribbon. Resentment flared, sharper than her worry. She could not wed the baron. She would not! How could she marry and leave her father’s side with de Lanceau still a threat? How could she marry a man she did not love, but loathed?

She must persuade her father to break the engagement.

Or, she would find a way to escape it.

“Three pieces of silver? I suggest you reconsider.”

Recognizing the voice, Elizabeth dared a sidelong glance. Mildred Cottlepod, her gray-haired lady-in-waiting, scowled at a hunchbacked crone who sold healing herbs. Elizabeth’s gaze slid to her guards. They leaned against crates of squawking chickens while pointing to the jugglers who boasted of an impossible feat.

Onlookers shouted bets. Coins clinked.

The guards laughed and reached for their money purses.

Elizabeth sucked in a breath. Could she slip away? How wondrous, to elude her guards’ watchful gazes for a while. Since de Lanceau had taken up residence in his crown-awarded keep two months ago, they had become her permanent shadows.

Heat stung Elizabeth’s cheeks, and her fingers tightened around the ribbon. She was a grown woman, not a witless simpleton who needed constant supervision.

No harm would come to her in this peaceful town protected by her father’s fortress. Without her guards hovering nearby, mayhap she could think of a way to convince her sire to annul the betrothal.

And, she could choose the thread she needed to finish the embroidery on the orphans’ chemises and shirts, for she had promised the nuns she would be donating gifts of clothes and sweetmeats to the children. Her lips flattened on a painful, buried memory. She would not forget the thread, or the promise she had made, one year ago, when her mother and infant sister had died.

“Ye like it, milady?” said a gruff voice.

“Pardon?” She swung around, and came face to face with the stall’s proprietor.

He jabbed a grubby finger at the bit of silk in her hand.

“’Tis lovely.” She dropped a silver coin into his palm, far more than the ribbon cost, but no doubt he had a wife and children to feed. He flashed her a toothless grin. She smiled back and glanced at her guards. They were engrossed in the bet.

Lifting up her bliaut to keep it out of the dirt, she darted into the market square.