Page 14 of The Warrior’s Forbidden Virgin

“I was glad to see her rid of you,” he responded.

John drew his sword, but before he could strike, Ademar blocked the weapon with his own blade. “Fight me,” he dared.

Although Ademar was at a disadvantage since John was mounted, it had no effect upon his fighting. His sword shifted from his right hand to his left, in a constant movement that John barely managed to defend. Katherine was so engrossed that she shrieked when two of John’s men grabbed her arms.

She hadn’t even seen them.

“Ademar!” she cried out. His attention jerked in her direction for a split second, and John struck hard. A scream tore from her throat as she saw Ademar fall to the ground, his blood staining John’s sword.

Tears blurred her eyes, and she was hardly aware of the men dragging her atop a horse. Her gaze was focused upon Ademar’s prone form, her mind begging for a miracle.

As they took her, she stared back at him, her heart dull with pain. Let him be alive. God help me, I want to wed him.

Ademar couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept. Though every instinct had screamed for him to ride after Katherine, he forced himself to return to Ardennes. He had no hope of rescuing her without help, and he knew John needed her as a hostage.

He’d narrowly missed his own death. When he’d seen the baron’s sword slicing toward him, he’d thrown himself to the ground, letting the blade cut through the top of his shoulder as he rolled away. His head had struck a rock, and he’d lost consciousness.

Likely the damned stone had saved his life. When he’d awakened, Katherine was gone and his head was caked with blood from the torn stitches. It had taken nearly a sennight to reach Ardennes on foot, wounded as he was, and longer before the earl would part with fifty of his best fighters.

“If Ceredys has harmed her—” Nicholas of Ardennes began, his voice dark with fury.

“He dies.” Ademar kept up his pace, matched only by the earl.

“You should have stopped Katherine from following you,” Nicholas continued. “Or better, you should have let Honora go. She has defied her responsibilities at Ceredys long enough.”

“No woman should travel alone,” Ademar countered. But he agreed with the earl. They hadn’t found Honora, so he had no way of knowing if she had joined Ewan on his journey back to Erin. “Not even your eldest daughter.”

Lord Ardennes turned crimson. “I told Ceredys that he could bring her back to her dower estates. Never did I suggest that he kidnap her.” His face turned stoic. It was then that Ademar realized the earl didn’t know Honora had escaped and had joined Ewan. Lord Ardennes likely believed that John had taken her when they’d left the estate.

Ademar tried to separate himself from the earl, to ride ahead of the others. But Nicholas stubbornly kept alongside him. “What are your intentions toward my daughter Katherine?”

“I intend to wed her.” He didn’t ask permission, though it was an expected courtesy. After the nights he’d spent with her, he was not letting her go.

“And what makes you believe I would grant permission for this match?”

“Because she could be carrying my heir.” Without waiting for Lord Ardennes to voice his outrage, Ademar spurred his horse faster. They were almost at Ceredys, near Morecambe Bay. In the distance, he could see the tides moving against the vast strand.

Ademar motioned for the earl to keep his men back. Turning to him, Ademar said, “I may be able to get her out with—without your army.”

“You will have no part in this,” Lord Ardennes argued. “You may have dishonored her, but I won’t let you risk Katherine’s life.”

There was no dishonor in what had transpired between them. Never would he think of it as such. “One hour,” Ademar demanded. “And I’ll bring her back.”

Nicholas hesitated, his face tight with uncertainty. He looked as though he’d rather lay siege to the castle, but he also knew that an open attack would bring a greater risk.

At last, he gave a curt nod. “One hour. If you don’t return with my daughter, I will send men to demand her release.”

Sir Ademar slipped inside the castle of Ceredys, intent on finding Lady Katherine. Fury and anticipation boiled within him that the baron had dared to take her. He would stop at nothing to find her and bring her home safely.

He rounded the corner, only to face an enraged warrior with a shaved head and the stature of a giant. The man extended his sword, and his dark eyes stared into Ademar’s, as though he were eager to kill. Behind him were almost two dozen armed men—serfs and villagers, from the look of them.

“Who are you?” the giant demanded.

Refusing to be cowed, Ademar rested his hand on his own sword hilt. “I am Sir Ademar of Dolwyth. I’ve come for Lady Katherine of Ardennes. Lord Ceredys took—took her prisoner.”

The giant lunged forward with his blade, and Ademar defended the blow, stepping out of range. When his attacker swung again, Ademar switched hands and nicked the giant’s face. “Where is she?”

“Gone. The Baron of Ceredys took her toward the coast.” The man’s accent was familiar, with a hint of Irish.