Heart's War (Heart and Soul) (8 page)

“That is not necessary,
my lord.”

“It is. Your stores were fine
, even for siege.” He paused, watching as Brynmor's cheeks darkened. “Brynmor, you have managed your lands well, but you are correct in saying the refugees have overtaxed your supplies. If the roles were reversed and we were at Montgomery, I would be begging help from you.”

Brynmor looked up at him
, startled. Then his lips twitched. “Begging?”

Before her father had a chance to reply,
Rose tapped the map. “If we can send them out in waves, so to speak, we can reduce the number of refugees substantially.”

“What do you mean, little one?”

Rose gritted her teeth. Why did he insist on calling her that? She forced down her irritation. “We cannot expect seriously wounded people to make a long journey. But with wagons, those who have serious injuries can make it to the nearest holding. The wagon could then continue on and bring those moderately wounded a bit farther away, and so on.”

Brynmor's eyes widened as understanding dawned. “That is a wonderful idea, Rose.”

“There are some too grave to move at all, but I would say we could reduce the number of refugees by at least two-thirds.”

“Rest assured more will arrive,”
her father said.

“Aye, Papa, but if we can keep wagons on hand, we can continue the process.”

“If Longshanks approves our union,” Brynmor said, “my nobles will unbar their gates.” He paused and pointed to various colored holdings surrounding his own. “Wagons will arrive with supplies, and we can send them back out with survivors.”

“But only after we know if Longshanks approves our marriage,” Rose said, biting her lip. “Your personal holdings will still be overtaxed
until then.”

“Hopefu
lly, not for much longer, Rose,” Brynmor said and nodded. “I like this idea.”

“We should take steps to proceed immediately,”
her father said. “The first wagons can leave in the morning.”

“Aye,” Brynmor replied.

Her father offered his arm to Gwen. She accepted and they moved toward the door.

Rose turned to follow.

“Rose,” Brynmor said sternly, “I would have a word with you.”

Her father
, his hand on the door, hesitated, but her mother jerked on his arm and hauled him out. He shut the door behind him.

Rose faced Brynmor, wondering what he could be upset about now. The
fire in his eyes made her heart hesitate. He stepped around the desk, moving so close to her she felt the heat from his body. She looked up at him. He reached up, cupping her face in his hands. His nostrils flared slightly. He lowered his head and touched his lips to hers.

His kiss was warm and soft, his lips infinitely gentle against hers. She stepped closer to him, fearing he could feel her shaking but unable to stop herself. His tongue traced over her bottom lip and she opened her mouth. He plunged inside, deepening his kiss but there was a gentleness
 . . . a reverence to his touch that she could not totally define.

His long fingers splayed outward, weaving through her hair. His kiss became more demanding, his tongue tangling with hers. Her hands
lightly touched his chest and slid upward, feeling the corded power so tightly leashed under his tunic.

A low growl rumbled through him, sounding deep in his chest. Suddenly, he released her and stepped back a pace. Rose struggled to pull her wits together but once again she saw a deep anguish reflected in his blue-green eyes. He couldn’t look at her
and was instead staring at the floor.

“Forgive me.”

A thick lock of his long black hair swept over his cheek. She reached up and gently smoothed it back with her fingertips. “Forgive you for what?”

“I
 . . .” he drew a deep breath into his lungs and clamped his jaw shut. The misery she saw within him stole the depth of color from his eyes and made his expression even bleaker.

He opened his mouth as if to speak but shook his head. Rose instinctively knew he struggled to find the words again. Instead, he pulled her into his arms and held her tightly. Completely confused, she returned his embrace, resting her head against his chest.
He remained unmoving for a long moment, then pressed his lips to the top of her head. “There is work to be done,” he murmured and released her. In an instant, he strode out the door, leaving her standing alone in the middle of the room.

****

Brynmor strode rapidly from his study, feeling as if he were running like a coward. He forced his stride to slow and battled to get his thundering heart under control. He kept expecting Rose to come to her senses, to reject his advances, and push him away. But she didn’t. Instead she responded to him in a way that pushed his control to the breaking point.

How could
it be? Why did she not stop him and bid him to mind his place? If she did that, he would at least know where he stood. But instead he was out of control, plummeting into something he had never experienced, where he did not know the rules.

It
was so very wrong.

Brynmor closed his eyes, remembering the feel of her lips against his. How her touch sent fire through his skin and brought everything roaring to life. Nay, he could no longer d
eny it.

It was very, very right
, and that realization scared the hell out of him.

****

Rose helped heft yet another litter into a wagon. One of the refugees jumped nimbly into the back and dragged the wounded soldier the rest of the way in. Rose leaned heavily against the wheel, trying to grab a moment of peace. She was so exhausted she did not know the day or the hour.

She looked at the small piece of parchment she had tacked to the wagon. “Three more litters,” she told the young man.

He nodded then scowled at her. “My lady, ye are spent. Rest yerself, I will get my brother to help put the other three into the wagon.”

She smiled up at him. “Thank you.”

Rose walked to a second wagon and checked the list she had tacked to it. This one was full and ready to go. She pulled the list off and walked to the drover. “You may leave whenever you wish.”

“Aye, m’lady,” he said and lifted the reins. He whistled sharply and the horses jumped forward. The wagon rolled out of the gates.

Rose took the list to the small table where she kept ledger tallies. Her documentation of the people entering and leaving Powys was similar to tallying bags of grain or other supplies entering or leaving the keep, but it was the only way she could think of to keep track of everyone.

She glanced around the overcrowded bailey. It seemed as if the more people she sent away, the more wounded replaced them. Her gaze fell on a group of men at the base of the wall. Brynmor stood with them. At his feet
sat a pile of large boulders. He was instructing the men to take the stones to the towers. If they did come under siege, the rocks would be dropped on the heads of the attackers.

Like the other men working on the walls, Brynmor had stripped off his tunic to work under the warm sun. He wore only his boots and braies. His sun
-darkened skin glistened with sweat, accenting the deep cuts of muscle. His body had been shaped first by the backbreaking labor of farming, then by his training with the sword in the lists, plus physical labors as he performed now. No wonder the man was a strong as a bull. His arms dwarfed those of the village blacksmith.

It seemed as if he felt her gaze upon him for Brynmor turned slightly and looked at her, his eyes piercing. Rose felt her face heat with embarrassment
, but she could not force herself to look away. Brynmor stared at her, as if uncertain why she gazed at him thusly. Then a slight smile pulled at his lips. He turned, picked up a large rock from the pile, and carried it up the stairs as if it were nothing more than a loaf of bread.

Gwen chuckled next to Rose. Her face heating even more, Rose jerked her gaze away from her husband
-to-be and back to the ledger tallies.

“It is difficult to focus on work when you have a man such as Brynmor showing off for you,” Gwen said with a smile. “Just do not allow him to catch you admiring him too often or it will go to his head.”

Rose grinned at her mother helplessly. It would do no good to deny anything.

Gwen laughed and focused on the ledger tallies. “You are doing very well with this
, Rose.”

“I just feel like I’m treating these tallies like bags of feed. They are people, not oats.”

“I know, but there are so many this is truly the only way to do it, and you are right, you need to keep track of people in case their families come searching for them.” She picked up the quill and found two names, writing beside them. “Unfortunately, we just lost two more in the great hall. They fought valiantly for their lives but I fear the Holy Father called them home.”

Rose swallowed around the lump that formed in her throat. “The announcement of our wedding should be a joyous time. But I worry, Mo
ther. We have not yet heard from Longshanks. He is not that far away.”

“We will,” Gwen said. “You know your father. He will make sure Longshanks understands this union is most advantageous for him.” Gwen paused and studied her critically. “Rose, you need to get some rest.”

“I know, Mother, but it seems every time I try, more wounded come through the gates.”

“There are others who can tend to them, Rose. We aren't the only two.”

With her words Rose looked around the bailey. “Except for that priest,” she said tightly.

“Who?”

“A few days ago a priest wandered in, offering to help. Unfortunately, his idea of healing is gouging everyone with that knife of his.”

“Bloodletting?” Gwen asked, her jaw tight and her green eyes sparking furiously.

“Aye. As soon as I discovered it, I forbade him from bloodletting, but he still tries to do it when he thinks I am not watching. I vow, Mother, I have to chase him off like a scavenging dog.”

“Have you told your betrothed?”

Rose shook her head. “He has enough weight on his shoulders.”

“I would strongly suggest that you do so. You know Brynmor will listen
to you. Tell him. If the priest will not obey the commands of an earl, he is a fool indeed.”

Rose nodded again
, looking around the bailey. “There are three more wagons preparing to leave. I will see them off then rest.”

Gwen nodded. “I will be in the great hall if you need me.”

Rose walked to the next wagon, noting it was only half-full of wounded and the drover was nowhere to be seen. She looked up to ask one refugee where the others who were able to help had gone when hands suddenly seized her from behind. She screamed, seeing the flash of a dagger at her throat. She latched onto the man's wrist, but if he truly wanted to murder her there was no way she could stop him.

With her scream the activity
in the bailey ceased and everyone fell silent, staring in horror at the man holding a knife to their lady's throat.

Her father ran from the great hall into the bailey with six guardsmen behind him. He slid to a stop when he saw her attacker, murder gleam
ing in his amber eyes. “Let her go.”

Rose's gaze searched the bailey. Where was Brynmor? He should be the one standing before this sod, not her father. Tears filled her eyes. Fear clawed at her heart.

“I’ll not stand by and watch our prince marry an English bitch!”

Her father
drew one of his large daggers. “Release her.”

“Stay back! I'll bleed her dry! I vow it!” The knife moved closer to her throat. Rose cringed, trying to back away from the shining blade
, but the man's grip was too strong. She struggled to catch her breath, suddenly dizzy. Where was Brynmor?

****

Rose's scream sent a dagger of fear through Brynmor's heart. He knew it was her the instant she uttered the sound. He looked to the bailey and saw a sod holding a knife to her throat. His vision hazed red. Brynmor stood in the middle of the stairs leading to the wall walk, slightly to the left of Rose and her attacker. But they were nearly half the distance of the bailey from him. One wrong move and the sod would slay her.

Rose uttered another soft cry as the sod manhandled her
, and the sound spurred him into action. He sprinted down the stairs, leaping off the edge when he was still a good ten feet from the ground. His long legs swallowed the distance. A small table stood in his way but he did not hesitate, placing his hand in the middle of it and vaulting over.

Montgomery shouted and cursed at the man, keeping his attention focused. But Brynmor’s actions gained Rose’
s attention as he hurdled over a small barrow filled with muck from the stables. Her eyes widened as she saw him in the midst of his sprint, but the fear he saw sent another surge of rage through him. How could he free her? If the man spotted him, he would slay her in an instant.

But then her blue eyes ignited with a spark that made Brynmor’s pulse pound. Sweet
saints be praised, she understood! He lengthened his stride and closed the distance. At the last instant, Rose latched onto the man’s wrist that held the knife with both of her hands, then her legs folded and she dropped to the ground, her body sliding through the man’s grip.