Dark Deceptions: A Regency and Medieval Collection of Dark Romances(216)

“Had you not attacked me, you would not have hurt your head,” he was looking at the smallest boy but lecturing all three. “Does your father know what you are doing?”

Romney lifted his shoulders, for the first time losing some of his confidence. “He does not care,” he said. “Will you give me your money or will I have to fight you to the death?”

Gart bit his lip to keep his smile from breaking loose. “Are you sure you want to fight me to the death?”

“I am sure.”

“I do not have any money on me.”

Romney’s fair brow furrowed and he looked to his brothers with uncertainty. “Well,” he said reluctantly. “We will wait until you return for it. Come back with your money.”

“I will not,” Gart said flatly. “Why do you want my money, anyway?”

“Because,” Romney said. “We want to buy nice things for my mother and sister.”

Gart scratched his head. “Your mother and sister?” he repeated. “Surely they have enough nice things.”

Romney shrugged. “It makes them happy. When Mother is crying, it will make her stop.”

Gart scratched at his chin again, a little puzzled at the last sentence but he didn’t pursue it.

“I see,” he said. “I am afraid that I am going to disappoint you, your mother and your sister. You will have to get your ill-gotten gains somewhere else.”

Romney didn’t like that answer at all. It was clear he wasn’t used to having his wishes denied. Gart eyed the children one more time before turning for the stairs and the three were on him in an instant with their fists and sticks. Gart rolled his eyes with frustration as he grabbed Romney by the arm and twisted it behind his back. Romney screamed and the other two lads stopped their onslaught.

“Oww!” Romney howled. “You are hurting me!”

Gart lifted an eyebrow. “I am getting tired of being attacked simply because I walked in to this keep,” he said in a low voice. “If you promise to cease your assault, I will let you go. Otherwise, I will bind all three of you and toss you into a closet.”

Before the boy could reply, they heard a voice from the floor above. It was a female voice, soft and sweet, and soon the swish of a voluminous surcoat could be seen and heard. Great yards of crimson fabric descended the stairs, calling for Romney and Orin. As Gart stood there with Romney’s arm twisted behind his back, a vision in red appeared.

“Romney!” the woman gasped. “What has happened? Are you injured?”

Gart stared at the woman in surprise, although his stone-like features did not give him away. He was actually stunned speechless for a moment as a vision from his past made an unexpected appearance. Although it had been years since had had last seen her, there was no mistaking the ethereal beauty. There wasn’t anything like it anywhere else in England.

“Emberley?” he asked hesitantly. “Emberley de Russe?”

The Lady Emberley de Russe de Moyon came to a halt when she heard her name, staring at the enormous knight with shock and some fear. He had her son by the arm and the child was in obvious pain, but as she gazed at the man, he began to look vaguely familiar.

From the mists of her memories emerged the face as a very young man, someone her brother had been friends with. She had known that face well, long ago. Now he had grown into a strikingly handsome man. Her deep blue eyes lit up with recognition.

“Gart?” she asked.

Her voice was soft with uncertainty. Gart’s green eyes glittered as he nodded his head, realizing he still had Romney by the arm and hastening to release the child. He tried not to feel guilty that this glorious creature had witnessed him roughing up the child.

“It is me,” he just stared at her, a rather soft expression coming over his masculine features. “I have not seen you in years.”

Emberley smiled broadly, a dimple on her chin and beautiful straight teeth. “It has been some time,” she agreed. “I believe the last time I saw you was when I had just returned home from fostering at Chepstow Castle and you and my brother were newly knighted.”

He nodded. “I recall,” he said. “That was many years ago.”

She warmed to the recognition. “Twelve years, at least,” she agreed, cocking her head thoughtfully. “I also seem to remember that on the day I returned you and my brother tore through the outer ward on your chargers, slicing up anything that did not have a heartbeat. My mother yelled at you and my brother for an hour after it was over.”

Gart was grinning, an unusual occurrence for him. The man had features of stone and cracking a smile was something that did not come easily. He was trying not to appear too embarrassed.

“We could not help ourselves,” he admitted. “Erik had a new sword that your father had given him. We want to make sure that it worked properly.”

Emberley laughed in remembrance. “My mother took it away for a week,” she snorted. “Erik and my father were furious.”

Gart’s smile grew as he stared at the woman; his last memory of her was a slip of a girl barely past womanhood but to see her now, he could hardly believe the change. She was positively magnificent. His eyes moved over her luscious blond hair, arranged into a beautiful style that had it pulled off her face and trailing down her back. She had spectacular dark blue eyes, like sapphires, and ruby lips that were parted in a magnificent smile. The longer he looked at her, the more enamored he became.