Of Love and Betrayal: Warriors in Love, #2

By Louise Lyndon

A Warriors in Love novel - book 2

 

Aveline de Bondeville is on the run. Determined to keep out of the hands of the cruel Raimbaut de Blois she will do whatever it takes to stay alive. And so when she finds herself in the company of Troy de Gysborne she must quickly decide if she can trust him. But can she confess to murder knowing it would mean her certain death?

Troy de Gysborne did the unthinkable; he tore the bonds of brotherhood and left a path of destruction in his wake. And now Troy must face those he betrayed, including the father who long ago renounced him. But to confess to the crime he committed will cost him everything. Including Aveline. But can he remain silent if it means losing the woman he loves?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Louise Lyndon
• Release date: May 16, 2021
• ISBN: 9780645081930

Book preview

Chapter One

England, 1130

Y ou cannot escape me, you murderous whore!

Aveline remained pressed against the tree, desperate to be at one with it. Her heart rammed against her ribs, and she did not dare move, nor did she dare breath, afraid he’d be able to hear her. She glanced at the sky and caught glimpses of the moon through the lattice of leaves and branches. The shadows around her thrashed and snapped as the wind tore through the forest. She rubbed her wrists, bruised and swollen from having been tied. Her lips throbbed, and when she licked them, she tasted the saltiness of blood. Her back, still raw from the flogging, stung as sweat snaked down her spine.

You are a fool if you think you can escape me!

The fine hairs on her arms stood on end. Her knees shook. Her belly tightened. And when a twig snapped from somewhere behind, she shoved a fist into her mouth to keep from crying out. She risked a glance over her shoulder. She was greeted with only the blackness of the forest.

She felt safe pressed against the tree but knew she wasn’t. It would only be a matter of time before Raimbaut found her. She inhaled deeply. The scent of rotting leaves filled her nose. Another twig snapped and she pushed herself away from the tree, and with her arms held out in front of her, she sprinted deeper into the woods. Her booted feet skidded on moss-covered rocks, and her bare hands pushed through low-lying tree branches. She stumbled over bumpy roots and shivered as wet leaves brushed against her cheeks.

You will hang for what you have done!

His cruel, hellish, voice sounded near. Her heart pounded. Sweat broke over her brow, and she fought to get air into her lungs. He was right. She could keep running, but she would never escape him.

Footsteps sounded behind her. She leapt into the thick scrub and bit back a cry as a sharp twig tore at the flesh on her arm. But the pain was nothing in comparison to what she had already suffered. And would suffer if she allowed Raimbaut to recapture her.

Her hunter stopped in front of her. She could smell his pungent scent on the wind. She could see his yellowed teeth in the dull moonlight. She carefully felt around her, and when her hand landed on the solidness of a fallen tree branch, she wrapped her fingers around it.

He placed his hands on his hips as he peered at the thick scrub that was her shelter. Could he see it move as her entire body shook? Could he see the whites of her eyes? Smell her fear? He took a step toward her, and her teeth sank into her lower lip. Then he turned on his heel and headed further into the woods.

Aveline sat back on her heels as the sound of her heartbeat thrashed in her ears. Her hand shook as she wiped cold sweat from her upper lip, black spots appeared in her vision. Her nostrils flared as she bit down a primal scream. She needed to keep fleeing.

She sensed him behind her seconds before his heavy hand landed on her shoulder.

I told you I would find you, you whore!

Her scream was wild. In one fluid movement, she stood and swung the branch and whacked him on the side of his skull. His eyes widened, and he dropped his torch. The flame hissed and sizzled, but did not extinguish itself, as it hit the damp ground. Then he fell to the ground with a loud thump. Aveline dropped her weapon. And when he groaned, she picked up her skirts and raced into the darkness.

She did not dare look behind her. She did not dare cry out as she slipped and fell on the wet, rotting forest floor. Her chest burned, her lungs gasped for air as she fought her way through the thick undergrowth. If the devil took a human form, then it was of the man who pursued her with single-minded determination.

She raced across a clearing and came to a skidding halt as she teetered on the edge of a rocky overhang. The moonlight was not bright enough to see the ravine below. She backed away from the crumbling edge and looked wildly around. A gust of wind whipped her hair into her eyes, but she did not need to see to know he’d found her. He sounded like a bear as he charged through the scrub. Above the howl of the wind, his roar echoed through her ears.

He took slow, purposeful steps toward her. His torch glared in her eyes, and that’s when she saw the blood. On her hands. On her dress. None of it belonged to her.

You murdered my father.

Her eyes bulged, and her entire body trembled. She placed a hand over her chest. Merde, think of something!

Come willingly with me now, and you will be shown some leniency. You will be allowed to die first before you are quartered.

Her step was quick and jerky as she backed away. No!

You are trapped. One more step and you will tumble over the edge.

Aveline glanced over her shoulder and felt her face turn ashen. She could not return to the castle. For six months she’d been beaten and tortured and held against her will. And when she had almost been raped, she’d taken a dagger to Bertram de Blois and killed him as he pinned her between his fat, sweaty body and the hard mattress of his bed.

She squeezed her eyes shut and thought of her husband. Aveline had not seen him since she’d been dragged from her home and given to Bertram de Blois in payment of her stepfather’s gambling debt.

Aveline turned to face Raimbaut and thrust out her chin. Her muscles tightened. There was a fluttery feeling in her chest. She squeezed her fists and inhaled deeply as realization hit her squarely in the chest. She would never get another chance to be free. She would never get another chance to get back to her husband. It was risky, but she knew she had to take it. She had everything to lose if she did not.

I will not give you the satisfaction of my death, you bastard!

And as Raimbaut lunged for her, Aveline whirled on her heel and stepped off the ledge.

Chapter Two

Troy pulled up the collar of his overcoat and hunched against the harsh, cold wind and cringed as the muscles in his shoulders burned. He’d been riding solidly since he stepped off the boat from Orkney, his goal to get to his father before he died. Troy wanted nothing more than to stop and set up camp, to get some much needed sleep. But time was not a luxury he had. Neither, it seemed, was having a speedy mount.

He’d been duped into buying the mare after many assurances by the groom the beast was fast and reliable. Well, she was reliable. At being slow. But Troy did not have it in his heart to get rid of the animal he’d named, Horse. Perhaps it was Troy’s way of delaying the inevitable. And so, he and Horse made their slow journey toward his dying father and the brother he’d betrayed five long years ago.

A fat raindrop landed on the back of his hand as the dark, heavy gray clouds finally opened. Within moments, the hair on Troy’s head was plastered to his scalp. Horse whinnied and shook her head vigorously and came to an abrupt halt. Troy tried to spur her on, but she refused to budge.

Come on, Horse. Just another hour or two and I promise we will stop to fill our bellies and rest our bodies.

Horse stamped her front hoof. And that’s when Troy saw the unmistakable form of a woman lying on the side of the road.

Jésus doux!

He dismounted and raced toward the supine figure. Her dress was soaked with blood, but after a quick examination, it was obvious the blood did not belong to her. At least not all of it. There was a large gash to the side of her head. Her cheeks were bruised and battered, her lips cut and swollen. On both wrists was the familiar tell-tale sign of rope burn. He felt for a pulse and held his breath until he felt the slightest of beats beneath his fingers. She felt as cold as snow. He shrugged off his overcoat, draped it over her, and glanced around. No one raced out of the forest to claim her.

Horse came forward and gently nudged the girl with her nose.

She’s not waking up, Horse.

Horse whinnied.

I know, I know. We cannot leave her here.

Troy was many things, but a heartless bastard was not one of them. So, he scooped the girl up into his arms and gently placed her on Horse’s back.

There is an inn further ahead. We’ll leave her there for her people to find. Horse nudged his shoulder. That is all I can do for her, Horse. She is not my problem. Troy narrowed his eyes at Horse as the beast continued to stare at him. Do not look at me so, Horse. I am not the girl’s guardian, nor am I her kin. I will see to it she has shelter, but that is all I am prepared to do.

The girl groaned, and without wanting to spend further time in the elements, Troy mounted Horse and tsked her into motion.

He had hoped the girl would regain consciousness by the time the flickering lamp of the inn came into view, but she remained limp, her head lolling from side to side. His plan was to leave the girl with the innkeeper and be on his way. He’d leave a pouch of gold for good measure, to cover the cost of any food and clothing she would need. It was more than what most would do in his boots.

A stable boy came out to greet them, and in one fluid movement, Troy dismounted with the girl in his arms. He ignored the wide-eyed look of the youngster and headed toward the dwelling.

Conversation ceased as he entered the darkened, smoke-filled room. He ignored the curious looks as he stood in the center of the room with an unconscious woman in his arms. Does this girl belong to anyone?

His question was greeted with low grunts and murmurs as they all denied knowing who she was. A sudden thought entered Troy’s head. What if the person who’d beaten her was sitting amongst the men? Perhaps leaving her on her own would not be such a good idea. No. She was not his problem. He needed to get to his father before it was too late. That was his priority, not some girl he’d found moments ago.

He nodded toward a woman who looked as if she had not seen a bath in many months. You. What is your name?

E-Edith. I-I am the innkeeper’s wife.

With one hand Troy managed to retrieve a gold coin from his pocket and tossed it toward the woman. It landed with a soft clink at her feet. A private room if you have one to spare.

She bent down and retrieved the coin. The room is currently in use.

He inhaled deeply. He shifted the weight of the girl into his left arm, retrieved another gold coin, and tossed it toward her. See to it that it is no longer in use.

Troy waited by the fire as Edith cleared out the room he’d rented. Within moments, a rather fat, red faced, bearded man was ushered out, followed closely by a half-clad woman. He ignored them and reserved his judgment, as he entered the room that’d cost him two gold coins.

The room was small, lit only by the fire and a solitary candle. It was sparsely furnished with a mattress, a table, and two chairs. It felt damp and cold, but would be somewhat warmer than outside where a storm was taking shape. He laid the girl on the mattress, and with his hands on his hips, Troy stood staring down at her.

He’d done what he had said he would do. He’d gotten her to shelter. He was not responsible for her, nor was he required to do anything more. He didn’t have the time to waste. He needed to get back to his father before he died. He had many wrongs he needed to right so his father did not go to the grave thinking the worst of him. He needed to explain why he’d done what he’d done.

You will look after her?

Edith paled and blinked rapidly. You are leaving her here? Alone?

If it is extra gold coins you require, I can give you more.

She held out her hand for the extra coins. Troy inhaled deeply and withdrew another two coins.

She looks to be in great pain and will require much looking after. Perhaps another coin or two?

Reluctantly Troy paid the innkeeper’s wife another coin. Be sure to look after her. There is enough gold for food and clothing and any other expenses you’ll incur to get her back to health.

Edith nodded, but her attention was solely focused on the gold coins.

Very well. I shall be on my way. He gave a hard, obvious swallow before he turned on his heel and left the girl in the hands of Edith.

As he made his way outside, he ignored the tightening of his chest and instead focused on his justification for leaving the girl on her own. She was not his problem, and he simply did not have time to waste. He glanced around the darkness, uneasiness settled over him. He strode toward the stables and stopped. He tapped his fingers against his thigh and looked back at the inn.

Jésus doux.

He marched back toward the inn and stormed inside. It took all of his self-control not to tear the place down when he saw the girl had been moved from the private room and shoved in the corner of the darkened, smoky room.

I make more gold renting the room out by the hour.

Troy doubted that. However, he kept his mouth shut and ignored Edith’s protest as he hoisted the girl into his arms and stormed into the private room. He ordered the half-clothed couple out and shrugged off his overcoat and laid it on the mattress. He then placed the girl atop it. He wanted to yell at the innkeeper’s wife for not looking after her, but was he really so different?

After all, he’d turned his back on her as well.

Well, he wasn’t going to do that again.

He was on the verge of telling Edith to leave them be when he looked down at the girl and saw her corded neck and restless fingers clasping at his overcoat.

Her back is paining her. Edith came to stand next to him.

He knelt beside the mattress and gently rolled the girl onto her stomach. He withdrew his dagger and cut the laces of the bliaut and pulled aside the garment. Her shift was soaked with blood. He used his dagger to nip the material before using his bare hands to tear the garment to expose her back.

Jésus doux. Troy glanced over his shoulder. Edith stood, her mouth hanging open, clutching her bosom. Fetch me whatever is needed to tend to her wounds. Now.

Troy’s order was followed immediately. He’d seen flogged men before, but never before a flogged woman. Her delicate back was crisscrossed with several deep, bloody welts. There was so much blood he could not tell how deep the wounds were. He swallowed the bile as it burned the back of his throat.

He pushed dark strands of hair from the girl’s face and said softly, Who did this to you, wee fille?

Her brow furrowed, but she did not open her eyes.

Within moments Edith returned carrying a tray. I have comfrey water and crushed daftodi root ointment. And bandages. She placed the tray on the table. I must clean her wounds.

Edith simply looked at him, but he was not going to leave the girl again. Besides, judging by what he had seen, the establishment did not seem overly concerned with the reputation of their guests.

Very well. Stay.

He hovered in the background as Edith soaked the bandages in the comfrey water and slowly cleansed the girl’s wounds. The girl did not flinch or make a sound, and Troy was thankful she was unconscious.

They do not appear to be deep.

Troy came forward and looked for himself. Deep they were not, but they would certainly leave their mark.

Who would do this to the girl?

Edith soaked another bandage and continued to cleanse the girl’s back. She made a deep sound in the back of her throat. We are on Bertram de Blois’s lands.

Troy simply looked at Edith. Was the name supposed to mean something to him?

You are not from these parts.

I have been away for many years.

He arrived here from Normandy three years ago. He is a cruel and heartless man. If I were to place a coin on it, I would say without a doubt he did this to her. It would not be the first time a girl has been found flogged on his lands. Except this one is the first to have been found alive.

Edith reached for the pot of daftodi root ointment. This will help to heal her wounds. You must apply it upon the hour. Edith dragged herself to her feet. Come get me if she wakes. I’ll brew some chamomile tea. She’ll be needing it should she rouse.

Troy heard the doubt in Edith’s voice. The woman did not expect the girl to live until morn. A part of Troy didn’t either.

And so, he pulled the three-legged stool next to the mattress and lowered his large frame. He rested his hands on his knees and kept his eyes on the gentle rise and fall of the girl’s breathing. She did not deserve to die a lonely death.

No one did.

Chapter Three

Aveline’s eyes flickered open, and she quickly closed them again as the harsh bright firelight burned her eyes. There was a foul taste in her dry mouth, and her head ached. It felt as if someone had whacked the side of her skull with a rock. She tried to move, but the sharp, stinging pain in her back kept her motionless. She risked opening her eyes again, and through narrowed slits, she could make out she was in some kind of room. She had no idea if it was night or day. Or even where she was.

She tried to pull herself upright and suddenly stilled as blackness filled her vision. The blood rushed so loudly in her ears it drowned out all other sound. Her belly tightened as queasiness washed over her. She doubled over.

Her spine stiffened as a large shadow fell across her.

Use this. A bucket was shoved at her.

She tried to push it away, but before she could, she vomited. A flask of wine was shoved to her lips, and she was told to cleanse her mouth.

As she raised her head, her vision blackened. The room tilted. So, she kept her head lowered and watched out of the corner of her eye as two large, leather-booted feet slowly walked away from her.

I’ve been waiting two days for you to wake. The sound of a chair scraping against the stone floor pierced her ears.

Out of the corner of her eye, she watched him. Large. Hairy. Menacing. Was he one of Bertram de Blois’s men? Had Raimbaut already found her? Was this beastly-looking man the one who would lead her to her death?

I said cleanse your mouth.

His voice rumbled through her, and she closed her eyes to stop the pounding in her head.

She knew how cruel and dangerous Bertram’s men were, so she had no wish to anger this man. Her hands shook as she raised the flask to her lips and took a tentative sip. At the strong smelling drink, she coughed and spluttered the red liquid down her chin.

Are you hungry?

Her stomach clenched. Food was the last thing on her mind.

Tentatively she shook her head. Her hand shook as she raised it to her brow. She winced as her fingers touched the wound. No.

And that’s when she realized she was naked from the waist up. She reached for the blanket and ignored the pain in her back. Her chin trembled as she covered herself.

She’d fought off Bertram de Blois, even killed him, to save herself from being raped. Had this man taken from her what most men believed was theirs to take?

Her limbs started to shake, and she gulped down large breaths to keep from screaming. She flinched as the chair once again scraped against the stone floor, and her knuckles turned white as she grabbed the edge of the blanket. She could not look at him, so she kept her head lowered.

Two booted feet again appeared in her line of vision. She forced herself to look up. Her breath caught in the back of her throat. He was fierce looking. Savage. And huge. His intensely blue eyes pierced her much paler ones. And when he simply stood staring at her, with his fingers drumming against his thigh, she had a sudden urge to run.

And that is exactly what she did.

Except she did not get far. She staggered to her feet only to fall to her hands and knees. And when he reached for her, she fought him off. She crawled to the corner of the room and wrapped her arms around her knees and whimpered.

Please, do not hurt me. I will do whatever you wish. Just do not hurt me.

He held out his palms, as if he surrendered to her. I mean you no harm, wee fille.

She shook her head in denial and rocked slowly back and forth. Then she pressed her fists to the side of her head and murmured repeatedly. I didn’t mean to do it. I didn’t mean to do it. I was defending myself. You have to believe me.

My name is Troy de Gysborne. He kept his voice low. And when the sound seemed to move away instead of drawing near, she glanced up. He stood at the table cutting slices of meat