Page 78 of My Warrior
“If you reveal yourself to de Ware or make any attempt to avoid this battle, make no mistake—I’ll torch the dungeon. You’ll hear your clansmen scream your name in agony as they burn alive.”
Her heart tolling like a burial bell, Cambria rode slowly toward the front gate, likely to her death. Holden would never guess it was she. He’d slay her in a few calculated strokes, never suspecting until he tore her helm away and beheld her sightless eyes that Owen had sent his own wife to fight him.
But fight him she would, for her clan’s sake. She was a laird now. Her life belonged to the Gavins. If she didn’t do everything in her power to protect them, then she was as worthless as a broken sword. She’d die for them, if need be. She only prayed that if Holden killed her, the Gavins would forgive him, and that he would stay to protect her people.
She consoled herself with the knowledge that at least it was a noble way to die—in the defense of her clan. Holden would slay her, and Blackhaugh would revert to his hands—his and the Gavins who had grown to respect him, Malcolm and Katie and…
She sniffed back the tears that threatened to undermine her control and kicked once at the charger. It was best this way, she decided, swift and with honor.
Holden wasn’t deceived for an instant. He knew from the size and the carriage of the knight exactly who it was. What bloody trickery was this? His men might be gulled, but did Owen truly imagine Holden wouldn’t recognize his own wife?
The knights around him began to converse in curious whispers as she approached, falling silent when she halted twenty feet away. Their scowls clearly showed they disapproved of the disparity in size between the imposing Holden de Ware and Owen’s scrawny champion.
Once Owen had returned to the tower window to watch, Holden made a show of saluting his opponent. “Hola!”
Cambria made no answer. Holden frowned. So she didn’t wish to be known. Why? Was it possible she’d taken his reckless words to heart? Did she believe she’d been used? Had she come willingly to do battle with him? Nay, it couldn’t be. Surely she wouldn’t champion a monster such as Owen.
“Have you made your peace with God, sirrah?” he said loudly, buying time so he could nudge Ariel close to her.
Her nod was barely discernible.
He murmured just loudly enough for her to hear. “I swear on the honor of de Ware, I meant none of the things I—“
“Get on with it!” Owen yelled, waving a flaming brand menacingly from the tower window.
Cambria reined her mount back in panic, trying to maintain distance between them. Clearly she intended to avoid discourse with him at all costs. Maybe Owen had threatened her—her or her clan.
He cursed softly, wishing he could look her in the eye and know the truth of her silence.
It appeared battle was unavoidable. He took his time, covering his head with his helm and tugging on his gauntlets. He cast a glance at his weapons. He wouldn’t use the lance—Cambria had little skill with it. Better to use arms for close combat.
“Swords?” he suggested, as Ariel pawed at the ground and tossed her head impatiently.
Cambria nodded, and then dismounted, catching at the stirrup for balance as her legs buckled beneath her.
Holden climbed down from his steed, playing for time to think—bending to adjust a rivet here, examining the surface of his shield. All the while, Cambria stood absolutely still, one mailed hand resting on the pommel of her sheathed sword.
He flexed his sword arm, analyzing the situation.
Owen had sent Cambria out as his champion, no doubt assuming Holden would easily dispatch her. But to what end? Murdering his own wife would devastate Holden, ruin him in the eyes of the Gavin clan, and destroy his de Ware reputation. While Holden suffered in shame, Owen would be able to woo the king and perpetrate a permanent claim to Blackhaugh.
If such were indeed Owen’s purpose, it followed then that he had no intention of honoring his word whatsoever. He intended neither to release the captives nor to surrender the castle, no matter who won the fight.
Surely Cambria was aware that Owen sent her to her death. On the other hand, maybe that’s what she wanted. Maybe she intended to sacrifice herself to save her clan.
Damn, he wished Cambria would speak to him—a whisper, a curse, anything. He needed to know what was transpiring in that brain of hers.
Unable to stall any longer, he moved forward and unsheathed. The whisper of steel on leather seemed deafening on the pregnant air. Cambria drew forth her own blade, holding it before her with both hands. For a moment, she stood frozen, like a hart held captive in a wolf’s soothing stare before the kill. Then he brought his blade around easily, slowly, to test her.
Her block was sluggish. Whatever Owen had done to her in captivity had weakened her, and this enraged Holden. How he wished it were Owen before him. He’d cut the savage to ribbons.
Cambria frowned, disgusted by her pathetic block of his blow. Her arm throbbed faintly. The last few days had drained her strength. Now she doddered like a newborn foal. Damn it, she had to do better than this. What if, by some miracle, Katie revived to make use of those keys? Cambria had to summon up the strength to fend off Holden, at least long enough for Katie to free her clansmen. But how could she draw her blade against him when her heart wasn’t in it?
Spoiled goods,she thought.Keep the whore.She let his brutal words fuel her power and lashed out at him with awakened fire.
Holden easily dodged the attack, gently turning her blade aside. She was going to tire herself too soon, before he had time to come up with a plan. He had to think quickly.
A small, subtle movement upon the rise of Blackhaugh Castle distracted him for a moment. Perhaps it was his imagination, and yet…
