Conquer the Night Read Online Free Page A

only five of them. One stepped forward, helmet in his hand, offering his sword to Arryn. Arryn dismounted from the bay and accepted the sword. Jay came behind him, along with Nathan Fitzhugh and Patrick MacCullough. The other guards turned over their weapons in total surrender.
    â€œWhere is the Lady Kyra?” Arryn asked, careful to continue speaking his native Gaelic.
    Tyler hesitated, wincing. “In the chapel.”
    Arryn dismounted and started to walk past him.
    â€œSir!” Tyler called.
    Arryn paused, looking back.
    â€œYou swore mercy.”
    â€œTo you, I swore mercy.”
    â€œBut—”
    â€œGet these five outside, to the wall with the others,” Arryn commanded Jay.
    â€œAye, Arryn,” Jay agreed, watching as Arryn strode toward the wielding stairs. “Arryn, there might still be danger.”
    â€œThis danger, Jay, I’1l face alone. Secure the fortress.” Arryn continued on up the stairs to the chapel, anxious, his blood racing and burning in a turmoil.
    He reached the top of the stairs, and through a short hallway, came to the chapel.
    And there, before the main altar, a woman kneeled.
    Her head was bowed; she was deep in prayer. But she heard him. He saw her back stiffen. It was a broad back.
    â€œLady Kyra!”
    Slowly she rose. Even more slowly, she turned to him.
    She wasn’t repulsive. That would be far too strong.
    She was simply … serviceable.
    She reminded him of a good draft horse. She was as broad at the shoulders as she was at the back. Her cheekbones were broad. Her jaw was broad. She was …
    Broad. Aye, yes, broad.
    The fever of fury that had brought him here seemed to momentarily still. His blood seemed to run like ice. No, she was not repulsive. She was as appealing as a solid cow.
    Cruel, he told himself. She had her good points. Her eyes were powder blue; her hair was white-blond. Her little lips were quivering away. She didn’t look like the cunning woman who might have made demands upon a man like Lord Darrow, forcing him to heinous and cruel excesses in his bid to gain greater riches beneath King Edward.
    No, she did not look the type….
    He had come for revenge. She had been party to brutality and tragedy; nothing in life came without a price. She belonged to Darrow—she and her estates. He meant to see that she and her property did not become important additions to Lord Kinsey Darrow’s quest for ever greater power, a power that allowed him to torture and murder the Scots at will.
    He removed his helmet and neck defenses, setting them down on a pew.
    â€œSo …” he stated, sword sheathed, hands behind his back as he walked toward her. “You are Lady Kyra.”
    She was silent, not understanding his Gaelic, he thought.
    Approaching her, he felt all the more ill. Seize Darrow’s woman, use her, hurt her, cut into Darrow’s flesh and soul the way that she and Darrow had cut into his….
    Could he ever have carried it all through? He had killed often enough in battle. Yet, murder—and the murder of a woman, even if she were guilty of complicity in the most heinous of crimes against humanity—seemed beyond his capabilities.
    This would be like slaughtering a shaggy-haired steer.
    â€œNo one left to guard you,” he mused, shaking his head. He stared at her flat, expressionless, bovine face again. “Oh, I am sorry, but … ’tis no great wonder! Nevertheless, you’ll have to come with me.”
    He started to reach for her. Just as he did so he saw a flying shape—like a shadow of darkness—coming toward him. He spun around just in time to ward off a blow as a figure in a dark cloak came toward him, a knife raised high.
    â€œAh, a defender at last!” he cried out.
    Swift movement had allowed him to ward off the first strike, but the cloaked defender was swiftly at him again, spinning around with supple grace and speed to try to stab a knife into his