The Dark Knight
Come, Lord Death, And Grant Me Life In Your Arms!Such invocations sprang to Lady Tonia's lips when she beheld Sandor Matskella, the sworn agent of her eternal rest. Yet his raw masculine power instead roused her slumbering womanhood to the dawn of eternal joy!Sandor Matskella looked upon Tonia Cavendish and saw many things: a woman not of his people; a woman promised to God; a woman condemned to die. But when he removed the executioner's mask from his face–and his soul–he knew that she was the fated bride of his heart!
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His eyes widened when he saw her and the naked blade she held.
“Missed me?” he asked with a half smile. His gaze searched hers for the answer.
Her knife clattered to the floor; its blade rang against the stones. With a cry of “Sandor!” Tonia threw herself against him. The bulk of his body and the warmth that emanated from him soothed her fears.
Time stood still.
He did not speak, but his hand slid down her spine, exploring each hollow of her back. His touch was oddly soft and caressing. A delicious shudder heated her body. Tonia knew that she should fight against her growing desire to move closer to him. A lifetime of prudence counseled her to resist. It was not too late to turn away and put him back in his place. She was a chaste virgin dedicated to God; he was a wild, unpredictable Gypsy….
The Dark Knight
Harlequin Historical #612
Praise for Tori Phillips’s previous titles
One Knight in Venice
“…filled with intrigue, excitement, romance and imaginative characters. Truly superb!”
—Affaire de Coeur
Lady of the Knight
“Ms. Phillips weaves an adventurous story…a good, fast-paced read.”
—Romantic Times
Three Dog Knight
“Readers will be held in thrall…a gem of a tale.”
—Romantic Times
Midsummer’s Knight
“…a fast paced plot…fully and funnily Shakespearean…wonderfully written…”
—Publishers Weekly (starred review)
#611 MY LADY’S PLEASURE
Julia Justiss
#613 THE COURTSHIP
Lynna Banning
#614 THE PERFECT WIFE
Mary Burton
Available from Harlequin Historicals and
TORI PHILLIPS
Fool’s Paradise #307
*Silent Knight #343
*Midsummer’s Knight #415
*Three Dog Knight #438
*Lady of the Knight #476
*Halloween Knight #527
*One Knight in Venice #555
*The Dark Knight #612
To my great-nephew, Tyler Andrehsen, Dinosaur Trainer, Pirate Captain and Romance Hero-in-training!
Contents
Prologue
“Have I not here the best cards for the game to coin this easy match?”
—Shakespeare’s King John
The Gypsy Encampment on
Hampstead Heath outside of London
April 1553
“Remember, Sandor, no blood is to be shed—not a drop when you kill the gadji.” Uncle Gheorghe paused while he coughed up more green phlegm.
Sandor Matskella looked down at his hands, hands that were expected to snuff out the life of an unknown Christian woman somewhere in the north of England. “I am a horse master,” he murmured. “What do I know of executions?” Now that he had learned the reason for his uncle’s urgent summons, Sandor wished he had been too far away to have answered.
Uncle Gheorghe made a wry face. “Bah! It is of no consequence what you know or do not know. You are young, strong—and healthy. That is all that is necessary. As you see, I am not able to rise from my bed. You will do the deed in my place as the crown’s executioner. You must—I have already spent the Constable’s gold.”
“And he took our Demeo,” snapped Aunt Mindra from her place by the fire. “That gadjo has thrown my boy into one of his deep pits in the Tower. He will hold Demeo among the rats to insure we keep our part of this contract.” She spat into the flames. “May the dogs eat the Constable’s heart and lick his blood.”
Sandor shuddered at his aunt’s curse. “What crime could a mere woman commit that the young English King requires her death?”
Uncle Gheorghe shrugged, then coughed up more phlegm. “Who knows? Who cares? It is enough that the death warrant is signed, sealed and delivered to me. Demeo is their hostage. The sooner you return from the north, the better it will be for him—and for all of us. Our people tread a slender rope here in England.”
“I want my son back before he is polluted by those Englishmen or he dies of a fever in that foul place,” Aunt Mindra snarled.
Sandor nodded, though he loathed the burden his uncle had placed on his shoulders. “I will leave within the hour,” he answered in a low tone. “Young Demeo has the heart of a bear. He will return to your fireside as good as he was when he was torn from it.” A little smile crossed Sandor’s lips when he thought of his wily cousin. “I expect he will return with a wealth of winnings from the pockets of the gadjo who have the misfortune to guard him.”
Uncle Gheorghe’s eyes, dull with fever, glared at him. “It is no laughing matter when the Constable himself delivers an order for an execution. Make haste to this Hawksnest Castle in the north. Kill the old woman and be done with it. But attend to every jot and tittle of the warrant. No witnesses—it is to be a secret execution. And no blood spilled. The Constable was very clear on that particular point.”
“Why?” Sandor furrowed his brow.
His uncle croaked a laugh. “It is a gadje whim, I expect. They employ the Rom to do their foul deeds for them so there will be no blood on their soft white hands. As to the woman, you can smother her but I think the garrote is better. You have the strong hands to do it properly.”
