Heart of the Flame (9 page)

"Oh," Haven began, not the least bit eager to put herself in such close company with the brooding lord. "I'm sure that will not be necessary..."

"Nonsense," Ariana said, smiling. "Kenrick, you wouldn't mind terribly, would you?"

He shot her a look that said he could name a hundred things he would sooner do, but his voice betrayed none of his reluctance. "It would be my pleasure to walk with Lady Haven for a while."

"Excellent," Ariana replied. "Perhaps you might show Haven the gardens. They have begun to bloom quite nicely just this past week alone."

"The gardens?" Kenrick echoed.

"Aye. A lovely idea, don't you think?" A teasing sparkle lit Ariana's gaze. "I trust you know where they are--just around the other side of the keep?"

"I will manage," he said, studying his sister's bright expression with a scowl beginning to knit his brow. To Haven he said, "I wonder if my sister thinks I might take you to the dungeon instead?"

Ariana shook her head at him in exasperation. With a sigh, she put her hand on his broad shoulder and rose up to kiss his cheek.

"Be nice," she whispered next to his ear, and then she was off.

Haven could only watch in bemused wonder as Ariana and her husband made their good-byes and strode away hand-in-hand, leaving her to the dubious company of Kenrick of Clairmont.

Chapter 8

Kenrick had not at all been of a mind to take a leisure stroll about the grounds--with or without his pretty guest at his side. His work awaited in his solar, along with countless other more critical tasks than this unwanted play of accommodating host that had suddenly been foisted upon him by his well-meaning sister.

It was uncustomary enough for him to leave his studying behind to train in the yard, but he had awoken that morning with an itch to use his muscles. When Braedon had suggested a quick spar, Kenrick eagerly agreed.

Rare or not, he had not expected his appearance in Clairmont's bailey to draw such an avid audience, least of all Haven. Her presence among the ring of spectators had jolted him in a most peculiar way, the beauty of her face and the nearly physical weight of her clear emerald gaze watching him through the crowd catching him unawares.

Seeing her had put an unexpected tightness in his chest, and in points decidedly lower.

Kenrick cleared his throat.

"This way," he said to her, gesturing for her to walk at his side.

Although his tone conveyed only the barest edge of impatience, Haven hesitated to move. "Really, you needn't trouble yourself to walk with me now. I'm sure you must have any number of things awaiting your attention--"

"Nothing that will not remain when I return," he said, uncertain why he did not take her offered leave when it had been all the excuse he sought not a moment before. He lingered, perhaps because she seemed uninterested in his company. Averse to it. "Have you no wish to walk with me, demoiselle?"

She considered his query for longer than he might have guessed, her small white teeth sinking into her lower lip as she stared up at him. She smiled then, slowly, and more polite than welcoming. "I would not presume to wish you here or away, Lord Kenrick. I meant only that the choice was yours."

"Very well. Then let us walk, Lady Haven."

She gave him a small nod, then began their stroll in thoughtful silence.

It was difficult to imagine that the malodorous, half-expired waif he rescued on Greycliff's rocky promontory was the same maiden who strode so gracefully beside him, her spine erect and proud, her regal gait showing only the slightest hint of effort. Garbed in a silk cotte that accentuated her every curve, her fiery locks swept back in a loose braid and carrying the scent of floral soap and lush spices, Haven looked as fine as any noble lady. The sallow, helpless wildling was good and gone, as if it had never existed. In her place was a woman of exceeding appeal, and no small amount of mystery.

Try as he might to hold her at a cautious distance as he would any stranger, Kenrick found there was a stronger part of him that wanted to know her better, to examine her as he would any puzzle.

Haven affected him simply by being, just as she did now, walking silently at his side as he led her past the bustle of the courtyard.

"I trust you are being provided with everything you need," he said, his inquiry sounding stiff and formal, almost stern.

"Yes," she answered. "I am."

"Your wound is being looked after?"

Haven nodded, sliding him a wary look that seemed to say she was less comfortable with his attempt at politeness than she might be with his gruff mistrust of the days before.

"And you are being well fed?"

At his further questioning, she paused, tilting her head to look at him. A small frown creased her brow. "Yes. I am regularly given more food and drink than I can consume."

"Very good. Your health is important to me, Haven. I want you to see that I am taking good care of you."

"Because you need something from me," she surmised, a note of challenge sparking in her eyes.

He did not confirm or deny his reasons, for he saw little point in it. Not that Haven awaited his response. She crossed her arms before her and faced him squarely where they stood in the center of the sun-filled bailey. As she spoke, her voice rose with the spark of her ire.

"Well then, my lord, let me assure you that I want for nothing. I am regularly bathed and fed. My chamber is never without a fire on the grate and fresh rushes on the floor. Lady Ariana has provided me with this fine gown and slippers...Why, every prisoner should know such fine treatment."

Kenrick scowled, noting the furtive, curious glances tossed their way by some of the folk yet milling about the yard. None of Clairmont's subjects would dare such boldness, for since his return from captivity, Kenrick was regarded with a measure of caution--and not a little fear.

It was a situation that suited him fine when his days and nights were spent in solitude and secret study of the treasure that consumed his every waking hour.

Most everyone in the keep thought him bedeviled and best avoided, a fact that had not been entirely without design.

It would have been easy to exploit his mad reputation in that moment, when he stood as good as publicly confronted by the fiery brazenness of his injured female charge. He could feel the eyes on him, the ears trained to hear their broody lord unleash an unholy wrath on the hapless fool who dared to pique him.

For one tempting instant, he considered doing just that. But anger was never his way, and to his surprise he found that Haven's challenge intrigued him more than anything else.

Let the servants think it just another unpredictable facet of his nature that he allowed this woman to take him to task over an imagined slight. She had no cause to be angry with him, and he saw no need to goad her unnecessarily.

Kenrick lowered his voice to a private level, holding her impertinent glare.

"You are not a prisoner, Haven. I told you that not a couple of days ago, when I disposed of the bar on your door. I have not confined you to your chamber, have I?"

"No," she replied archly. "My cage is a bit larger than that. Though not much, I expect."

He stepped closer to her, until his tall shadow blotted the sun from her sparkling green eyes. "Is that truly what you think?"

She gave him no immediate answer, holding her ground in stubborn silence.

"I realize I might have treated you somewhat harshly at first, Haven. But you may trust me when I tell you that it was not my intention."

Her pretty lips pursed in a moment of haughty consideration. "I find it a wiser thing to trust deeds over words, my lord."

Kenrick smiled, taken aback. "As do I, my lady," he replied, in full agreement and amused in spite of his own defense.

He flicked a glance over her burnished auburn head, his gaze searching the bailey for one of the young squires who served him.

He found one of the boys toting a bucket of slops out of the stables. Kenrick caught the lad's eye with a commanding look and gestured him forth. Dropping his pail at once, the squire dashed over to receive his orders.

"Aye, milord?"

"Take word to the stable master: I will need a mount and escort available at all times, provisioned to ride as far as Cornwall on my instruction. Once this lady is healed and fit to travel, I will see her returned to wherever she wishes to go. Understood?"

The squire bobbed his shaggy head. "Aye, milord. I'll go tell 'im what ye said."

"I trust that puts to rest some of your doubts," Kenrick said, looking back to Haven once the boy was gone. "You are as free as anyone here. I don't know what more I can do to convince you I am in earnest, lady."

She stared at him in mute contemplation, then quietly said, "Thank you."

"The gardens are this way. Unless you'd rather tour my dungeons?"

She smiled at his jest, a plainly unwilling warming of her otherwise cool regard for him. He held out his arm like a courtly gallant, and she stepped forward to join him. They crossed the rest of the inner bailey at an easy pace, a wary sort of truce stretching tenuously between them.

Kenrick watched the busy scuttle of the pages and squires as they went about their duties, the knights resuming their training, and the servants attending their day's business back and forth from the keep. Kenrick surveyed all of this mundanity with a keenly observant eye, but the whole of his interest--indeed, his every sense--was tuned toward the unusual beauty at his side.

There was something elemental, yet ethereal, about her very being. He had been told by the villagers in Cornwall that she was a common maiden, a simple healer, but Kenrick could see nothing common in her at all.

Fire leaped in her russet hair and in her sharp, gem-bright eyes. Delicate yet strong, she held herself with the bearing of a queen--a warrior queen, he mused, noting her rigid spine and the fine tendons that flexed beneath the fair skin of her hands as she toyed with a loose thread on her borrowed gown. Her gaze was distant, her expression a bit forlorn, as though she were lost somewhere deep inside herself.

Kenrick felt a pang of sympathy for her, understanding how distressing it must be to awake a stranger in one's own skin, uncertain where she was, or where she might belong.

But it was not his place to console her. Nor was it a burden he desired.

Still, he found himself hoping she might find some peace at Clairmont. More the better, should that peace bring along the full recovery of her memory the night of the attack on Greycliff.

He was mulling over that eventuality when they rounded the far corner of the tower keep and came upon Ariana's splendorous gardens. Haven drew in her breath with a soft exclamation of awe.

"'Tis lovely," she whispered, leaving Kenrick to venture into the heart of the glorious patch of Eden.

The garden spread out along one full side of the keep, its colors resplendent, mingled fragrances beckoning even Kenrick to draw a deeper breath in order to savor the sweetness of the many blooms and budding herbs. He had to admit it was a pleasing sight, although he had never given this area of the grounds much thought. In truth, he could not recall the last time he had been outside to enjoy his sister's hard work on the hundreds of flowers, trees, and herbs that flourished under her nurturing hand.

Haven stood in the center of the verdant sanctuary and held out her arms, tipping her head back to let the sun beat down full upon her. She seemed to forget he was there, indulging in a little twirl of pure, uninhibited joy. She came out of it almost as quickly as the urge had overcome her, shooting him a shy glance across the distance that separated them.

Kenrick's blood was pounding hard just to look upon her in the midst of so much fertile beauty. He took a step into the garden, his gaze rooted on her, his mind returning eagerly to an image of Haven's nude form, a form he had innocently glimpsed when he tended her wound at Greycliff.

There was nothing innocent about his imaginings now, however.

Realizing this, he forced himself to heel just inside, leaving no less than a dozen paces between himself and any further tempting thoughts where Haven was concerned.

Evidently, it was too late to mask his interest.

Haven had gone still where she stood in the center of the garden. She looked at him with the sudden awareness of a rabbit catching sight of wolfish eyes in the thicket. Her breasts rose with the shallow breaths she took. He could almost see her pulse beating at her throat while she waited for him to make his move.

He should have made his excuses, turned away and left her there. God's love, he meant to, but there was something more powerful at work here. Something that drew him toward her when every bit of logic--every scrap of honor--warned him to keep his head.

Kenrick took a measured step toward her, stalking deeper into the sanctuary of the garden.

"I believe I've had enough sun for one day," Haven murmured. "Please, excuse me."

She nearly lunged to dash past him.