Heart of the Flame (15 page)

Seated on a turf bench across a small path from Ariana, Haven reached into the basket they shared and withdrew a sprig of mint from amongst the bundles of savory spices gathered for the evening's supper. She chewed a bit of the refreshing leaves and watched as Ariana trimmed a clump of bay laurel from a nearby shrub.

With her memory returning in only scattered bits and pieces, Haven knew not where she truly belonged. Not in Cornwall, she felt nearly certain of that. And likely not here, either. But it was tempting to picture herself living out her days in a place such as Clairmont. The place did not quite fit her--much like her borrowed gowns and too-snug slippers--but there was a calm here she was beginning to enjoy.

Clairmont held its own brand of enchantment, a thought clearly shared by Ariana, who glowed with serenity and life amid the flowers that surrounded her in the small garden. She was a woman at peace with her place in the world, and Haven envied her that feeling.

"You seem quiet today," Ariana remarked after a time. "Does anything trouble you?"

"Nay." Haven gave a vague shake of her head. "I am just thinking."

"I hope you know that you can talk to me, Haven. We're friends, are we not?."

Her welcoming smile set a twinge of emotion in Haven's heart. She recalled little of her past, but she had the keen feeling that there were few she counted among her friends. It seemed almost a foreign notion to her, something she had purposely denied herself. She saw no reason to do so now. In fact, she was glad for the company. Glad to think she had at least one ally in this strange--if pleasant--landscape.

"I was merely thinking how good it feels to be out of doors. I like these gardens very much."

Ariana beamed. "They are my pride, if you want to know. I've planted all of these beds myself."

"They are lovely."

"You may clip some flowers for your chamber if it pleases you."

"You wouldn't mind?"

"Of course not," she replied, leaning over to give her hand a warm squeeze. "There are violets in the corner, and lily of the valley over there, shaded beneath the arbor--"

Ariana paused mid-sentence, her expression brightening as the sound of horses' hooves pounded onto the cobbled bailey. "It must be Braedon and Kenrick. They've returned!"

The two men had been out since before dawn, away on matters not divulged to Haven. Now Ariana got to her feet and brushed at the flecks of dirt and scattered greenery that had gathered in her lap. A pretty flush filled her cheeks, her smile wide and dazzling, evident joy reaching all the way into her sparkling blue eyes. She brought her thick, honey-blond braid over her shoulder, then hooked her basket of neatly gathered herbs onto her arm.

"Will I suit?"

Haven nodded approvingly. Ariana looked as fresh and promising as daybreak itself. Not that her lord husband would demand such perfection. From all Haven had seen of the lady and her beloved raven-haired warrior, she could greet him dressed in rags and ashes and he would beam at her with nothing short of husbandly pride.

Ariana took a jubilant couple of steps, then abruptly turned back to look at Haven. "Well, are you coming?"

It hardly seemed she could refuse, even though she dearly wanted to. The thought of seeing Kenrick again after her visit to his chamber last night brought a peculiar flutter to her stomach.

As she strode alongside Ariana, Haven found herself smoothing the folds of her own skirt, which, she noted with some dismay, bore smudges of dirt and the trace stains of the berries she had collected. Her fingers had fared none the better, spotted purple in more places than not. Her hair shunned the obedience of the prim braid into which Ariana had attempted to train it that morn. Loose coppery strands blew on the breeze like streamers despite Haven's efforts to tame them back behind her ears.

With some degree of resignation, Haven left off fussing with herself. Thrusting her chin up, letting her hair stray as it willed, she gripped the handle of her basket and attempted not to fret over her appearance, which would never match Ariana's golden grace and warmth. There was no point in trying.

After all, she reasoned with herself, she had no one to impress.

Haven clung to that thought as they rounded the soaring east wall of the tower keep and came into the courtyard of the inner bailey. Try as she might to be unaffected, it was difficult not to stare at Kenrick of Clairmont when he stood beside his white charger outfitted in gleaming chain mail and a surcoat of deep blue silk.

The splendor of him as he drew off his helm and coif fair stole her breath. If she thought him endearingly handsome when he was bent over his desk, pensive and frowning as he scribbled his secret writings, this new side of him--this golden warrior--was utterly devastating.

He was magnificent. So much so, Haven nearly groaned with desire just to look upon him.

Thankfully she was spared the indignity when in that very moment, Ariana gave a little cry of excitement and launched herself into her husband's waiting arms. Braedon lifted her off the ground as though she weighed naught but air and spun her around in a quick circle in the bailey. They murmured private words to each other, then pressed their lips together in a loving kiss that seemed like to never end.

Haven looked away from the affectionate display, and her gaze was snared at once by Kenrick's level stare.

"Good morrow, my lady."

"My lord," she replied with a courteous nod of greeting.

He took her in from head to toe, a slow, measuring glance that set butterflies of awareness batting around in her breast. "I see you've been in the garden today."

She willed herself not to look down at her berry-stained skirts, waiting to catch that dissecting gaze as it picked her apart, flaw by glaring flaw. Instead, when their eyes met again, his held only a note of curiosity. Perhaps something more, although she was never sure how to read his stoic expression.

"Apparently there will be capons in cream sauce at this eve's sup," she told him. "Lady Ariana and I were collecting rosemary and fennel for the recipe."

He strode forward and reached out for her basket. Pressing one strong, elegant finger to the edge of the container, he tipped it slightly to inspect its contents. "And elder berries?"

"For a pudding."

As he reached in to pluck one of the glossy fruits from the basket, Haven's mind returned to their encounter in his chamber the night before, when that same hand had caressed her cheek, and idly toyed with a lock of her unbound hair. She had longed for more then, and, faith preserve her, she did so now as well.

"How went the trip?" Ariana asked, drawing out of her husband's embrace to question both men.

Haven thought she spied a note of reservation passing between Kenrick and his dark brother-by-marriage, but it was gone quickly, replaced by an air of masculine command.

"It went much as expected," Braedon said.

"You are back earlier than planned."

"Aye," Kenrick agreed. "But only for the night. We'll be off again on the morrow."

"So soon?" Ariana wrapped her arms a bit tighter around Braedon's trim waist. "Did you find anything while you were away--any news that might prove helpful?"

"There have been some developments," Braedon said, tenderly tracing his fingers along Ariana's cheek. "Naught to worry about."

She shot him an arch look. "You know how I feel about secrets, my lord."

"I do, and I will tell you all, my lady." He glanced subtly in Haven's direction before meeting his wife's expectant gaze. "We can talk in the keep, after I tend my mount. Mayhap you will be kind enough to fetch me a bath. Lord knows, I could use one after riding all morn."

"Very well," she sighed. With some apparent reluctance, Ariana released her hold on her husband. "I shall meet you in our chambers as soon as Haven and I collect a basket of eggs for the kitchens. Do not keep me waiting overlong, my lord."

The scar on Braedon's left cheek drew tight with his answering grin. "I wouldn't dream of it, my lady."

* * *

As the ladies departed, Braedon crossed his arms over his chest and blew out a slow, appraising sigh. "It is a rare thing, to be sure."

"What's that?" Kenrick asked, unable to tear his gaze away from the unpracticed sway of Haven's hips as she walked.

"To find such beauty, fire, and wit in one woman." Braedon angled a knowing look on him. "That brand of fortune is usually reserved for men more deserving than either of us."

"Aye." He shrugged. "I wager so, now that you say it."

For all his casualness, Kenrick paused to consider the truth in Braedon's observation. Haven was indeed an unusual woman. Beautiful, of course, as any man would readily admit, but her appeal went much farther than that.

Much to his dismay.

Spirited, intelligent, she was as intriguing as any puzzle Kenrick had ever known. He wanted to uncover each of her mysteries, solve the many riddles that made the lady into the elusive, alluring creature she was.

Haven was fire and beauty and wit--everything Braedon had said and then some. She defied description to Kenrick's way of thinking, and that alone made him want to know more.

"The lady is a fair, many faceted jewel," he admitted at last, voicing his thoughts aloud. "She surpasses mere beauty, do you ask me."

Braedon grunted in reply as he went back to his work.

Kenrick's attention, however, had turned eagerly elsewhere, toward the vixen who lit up the drab bailey courtyard like a burst of pure amber light.

"Have you ever seen such a face or form so lovely as that? Or hair so lustrous? 'Tis like skeins of silken flame. And her eyes--by God, those unusual emerald-hued eyes are alive with a thousand flecks of gold and silver and colors I vow I've never seen the like before..."

Braedon's sudden outburst of laughter shattered the vision Kenrick had been lost to in that moment. He scowled at his sister's husband, who now sat back on his haunches to regard him from under his dark forelock. The man was clearly quite amused.

"By the Rood," Braedon chortled. "Have a care, my stricken brother. Else you'll have me believing you've traded your formulaes for the mooning lyrics of the troubadours."

"Believe what you like. And I'll thank you to piss off," Kenrick gibed back, chagrined to think he had made a fool of himself, even with the man he considered a close friend and kin. "Besides, you were the one to start the subject. I was merely elaborating on things you yourself had said."

"Fair enough," Braedon said, clapping him good-naturedly on the shoulder. "But I was talking about my lady wife. Pray tell, which lady might you have been talking about?"

The smug bastard did not wait for Kenrick's reply, which likely would have been accompanied by the wooden brush he held in his hand. Still chuckling, Braedon tossed down his packs and sauntered back into the stables with his mount.

* * *

With her basket tucked under her arm, Haven followed Ariana past the stables to the area of the bailey where the pens for the livestock were located. A brown milk cow mooed as they passed her square patch of grazing turf. Piglets snuffled and rooted about in their pen, chasing their mother as the large sow roused from a nap and shuffled to the far corner of the containment, her afternoon doze evidently disturbed by the two women strolling by.

Ariana covered her face with the edge of her long sleeve, discreetly shielding her nose although the earthy smells of the animals and their pens was hardly offensive. Haven noted Ariana's hastened pace, the faintly queasy look that spread over her countenance.

"Does he know?" Haven asked.

Ariana looked over at her quizzically.

"About the babe. You may not like secrets, but you are keeping one of your own. Your husband does not know he is to be a father, does he?"

"Wha--" She ceased walking and blinked at her in disbelief. "But I am just a fortnight past my time. How could
you
possibly know?"

Haven glanced at the lady's trim stomach, knowing it was too early to see signs there. Her nervous stomach could have been nothing more than a passing ailment, or the delicate senses of a woman born of noble blood, but the truth of it was in Ariana's eyes. And in the tender look that came over her when she thought no one was watching. It was in the loving way her hand liked to drift down and caress the growing child in her still-new womb.

"I have treated more than one expectant woman with my herbs. The signs are there, if you know where to look. Why do you keep the news from him? 'Tis plain enough for all to see that he holds affection for you."

"Affection?" Ariana laughed, a musical sound of amusement. "Yes, I dearly hope so!"

She resumed walking, her gait easy now that they were gone from the larger animals and crossing an open grassy area.

"Why do you not tell him, then?" Haven pressed, curious all the more. "Do you fear he will not feel the same affection for his child?"

"No," Ariana answered at once. "No, never that. Braedon is a very loving man. Family is important to him. 'Tis just...well, there is much about him that I cannot explain. He is hard on himself, believing he has many flaws. He is concerned that some of them will be passed along to his children."