Free Sworn Loyalty - A Medieval Romance by Lisa Shea

“Still can’t risk a fire,” he murmured. “There’s no guarantee that Josiah and his men aren’t roaming around, looking for a trace of us.” He gave an experimental twist of his torso, holding in a low groan. “And I am still not in any shape to properly defend us.”
    Mary looked down, her face flushing. All throughout the day Erik had not made one sound of complaint, not all the times he had to half carry her when her leg gave out. She had almost forgotten that his injury was just as serious as hers.
    “I am sorry –”
    “No,” he said instantly, turning to face her. “Don’t ever be sorry. If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t be here. If I have to give my life to keep you safe, then I will do so gladly.”
    Mary’s breath caught. For so long he had been a visceral presence in her life, a still center amidst a turmoil of emotion. Every day his honor had been disparaged as a source of anger and shame. She had tried to understand his mother’s fury, understand her sense of betrayal and jealousy. And yet every time she had gazed at that painting over the fireplace, all she could imagine was what it would be like to have that fierce loyalty protecting her.
    And here he was, kneeling before her, his eyes steadily on hers.
    She wasn’t sure if she leant forward, or if he did, but suddenly they were kissing, his lips firm and sure on hers, and her arms slid up around his back to pull him close. He put an arm out to lower her down onto the ground.
    It was a long while before her breathing eased again.
    She lay curled up against his chest, soaking in his warmth, when the thought came to her. He had said, even as he had been captured the final time by Caradoc’s men, that he still held out hope that Lynessa was innocent in all of it.
    A shiver ran through her core. Despite all Lynessa had done to him, a thread still connected the two. Mary wondered if he would ever be free.

Chapter 6
    Mary forced herself to take long, deep breaths as they came around the final bend toward the keep’s outer gates. It was only midday but she was already exhausted. Two days on the road had taxed her healing body more than she thought possible. She was grateful that only a short distance remained between her and the comfort of a warm fire. But it was the thought of the homecoming, and all it entailed, that tightened the muscles at her shoulders.
    Erik’s stride was slowing as well, and she knew that this was just as difficult for him as it was for her, although for different reasons. To him, this was the home he had been exiled from, the family he had let down and deserted. He had turned his back on his mother’s love, all for Lynessa.
    Mary shook her head. If only he could have seen his mother during his decade of absence. The woman might have snapped in anger, but it was clear that her heart was with her son. Lady Cartwright’s eyes had kindled with hope every time the main door of the hall swung open. The older woman would turn, seeking her son’s remorseful gaze, hoping against hope to hear his vow that he would put her above the trollop who had caused so much harm.
    That day had never come.
    Erik and Mary walked steadily up the road side by side. Mary fought to keep herself from folding her hand into his and lending him her strength. She knew this homecoming was something he needed to face on his own.
    By the time they reached the main gates the wall was solidly lined with guards. A burly man with salt-and-pepper hair stood at the center, his leather armor embossed with a pair of crossed swords. Mary knew the family crest as well as she knew the feel of her sword in her grasp. It was emblazoned on the banners in the great hall, on the blankets in each room, on the carven back of the large oak chair at the center of the head table.
    Erik’s gaze drew to the man, and it was a moment before he spoke. His voice was steady and even. “Michael. It has been a long time.”
    Michael held his eyes, examining the man before him.