Legendary Warrior (19 page)

Time stood still when she took charcoal in hand; nothing mattered but what she was creating on paper. Sometimes she did not even consider what she would draw—she allowed her mind and hand free rein. She always appreciated the results and was even surprised at times.

The knock on her door went unheard and unanswered, and she did not hear when the door opened and Magnus entered. He closed the door quietly and watched her work from where he stood.

The flickers of light from the candles caused shadows and light to dance as equal partners across her lovely features. Her hands flowed like a perfect melody across her paper. She was lost in her drawing. He had seen her time and time again just like this. He had entered her room without her knowing, so engrossed had she been in her drawings. He would watch her draw, watch the way she chewed at her bottom lip in thought, how she rubbed her chin when deciding where to go next, how her chin or nose forever wore a smudge of charcoal.

The familiar scene warmed his heart. He could sit content by the hearth for hours watching her just as she was, and with a nod to his own thoughts he sat in the chair next to the fireplace.

Reena stared at the drawing, the piece of charcoal a mere stub. She had worked diligently for hours and had produced a stunning piece of work that completely surprised her and produced heartfelt emotions.

She studied every line and stroke, amazed by her own skills, yet grateful. What she recorded would live on long after she was gone, and it would be there for many to see and enjoy and learn.

A strange sound interrupted her thoughts, and she quickly looked about the room. She was stunned to see Magnus asleep in the chair near the hearth.

Asleep and snoring.

With drawing in hand she walked over to him and quietly kneeled in front of him. His head rested to the side, his one arm was draped over the arm of the chair, his other arm rested on his leg. He wore all dark garments as usual, though he wore no leather tunic and his long hair looked alive with bursts of sunlight, the fire’s glow highlighting the sun-colored strands.

He was a handsome man even when he slept and far from a legend, since he snored like the common man. It was not a heavy snore, but deep and steady, almost rhythmic in nature.

She listened to the delightful melody, giggling when it reached a crescendo then slowed before it began again. She should wake him, but he appeared so very content. The thought that he had not disturbed her when he had entered her bedchamber and seen her drawing but had sat beside her hearth to wait warmed her heart and endeared him to her all the more.

His snoring crested once again, only this time more loudly than before. He woke himself up.

Reena giggled as he sat up with a start.

“I do not snore,” he said.

“I did not say that you did, though I did hear a strange sound.” She bit her lip to prevent a giggle.

“Horace,” Magnus accused and looked around for the pup. “He is never around when I need him.”

Reena could not stifle a giggle.

“You find this funny?” he asked with a smile.

“Your snoring is like a melody, I do not mind it.”

“Many women whose husbands snore would adamantly disagree.”

“I suppose many would,” she said. “But I would be grateful to hear my husband snore night after night, for that would mean we were safe beside each other.”

Magnus leaned forward and stroked her soft cheek with the back of his fingers. “You look at things differently than most women.”

His gentle touch sent gooseflesh rushing over her, and a soft sigh followed suit.

Magnus had not intended to kiss her, but he could not help himself, she looked so appealing with that smudge of charcoal on her chin.

He leaned forward and caught her lips with his. He was about to taste more of her when his eyes caught sight of her drawing and he pulled back away from her, his hand reaching for the paper.

He was struck by the detail. Reena had captured the scene as if she had been there and had seen it with her own eyes. It took him back to when he was a little boy, and that little boy’s emotions came pouring forth. His heart pounded in his chest and he fought the urge to weep.

Reena watched his emotions war in his eyes and on his face. “I do not know why I draw what I draw sometimes. I had not planned on this drawing.”

Magnus shook his head slowly. “I cannot believe the accuracy in it. It was as if you saw it clearly with your own eyes and that you felt—my God, you actually captured her pain.”

Reena and he looked upon the drawing. Magnus’s mother stood chained to the wall of the secret room, her wrists tight in the shackles, her fingers holding firm a piece of metal she used to scrape words on the stone wall. Her long hair hung down her back and her head rested to the side on her arm. She resembled Magnus, though her beautiful face portrayed a woman deep in sorrow, strong in strength and fighting her fear.

Magnus kissed her cheek. “Thank you. I shall cherish this drawing forever.”

“But it makes you sad,” Reena said, her own heart as heavy as his, for the drawing invoked deep emotions.

“I cannot deny it brings back difficult memories, but your drawing proves to me what I thought as a child but now I know as an adult—my mother faced her ordeal with strength and courage, and no one, absolutely no one, could take them from her. So thank you again, you gave a little boy what he needed badly. You gave me the truth.”

Chapter 22

S
pring rushed in, forcing winter away. The days turned sunny and bright, the air lost its chill, the skies seemed bluer, the birds hurried to build nests for their expected young, and the trees were budding.

The village was also a buzz of activities. Repairs were started on the cottages, the land was being prepared for planting, and the healthy farm animals were near to giving birth, along with several women in the village.

Life was good, though on closer inspection guards had been doubled around Dunhurnal land, people kept a watchful eye on strangers who requested to stop and rest before traveling on, and Thomas remained forever near Brigid’s side.

Spring had brought beautiful weather, and along with it a better chance for Peter Kilkern to make a move.

Reena hurried out of the keep, Horace close behind her. She did not have much time. She had already bade her parents and Justin farewell, and she had to see Brigid before she left. Early that morning Magnus had announced that they would take a few days to travel to parts of his land he wished mapped with more detail and that they would leave by midmorning.

She’d barely had time to pack a small satchel and say her good-byes. Brigid was the last one left to see, and then she would be ready to go.

Magnus and she would have collided had he not seen her rushing out the door. He braced himself and grabbed firm hold of her as she rushed into him, though Horace collapsed with a start against Reena’s legs. She was forever rushing. She was a small bundle of exuberant passion that simply could not be contained, and he found he did not wish to contain her; he wished her to remain free of heart and spirit.

“Are you ready?” he asked and frowned at the now sizeable Horace, who cautiously peeked out from behind Reena. “Still a coward.”

“I must bid Brigid farewell and then I am ready, and Horace is not a coward, he is a loving, thoughtful and true friend.”

“Do not take long, I wish to leave shortly, and Horace the cowardly dog will not be going with us,” he said and released her reluctantly. He watched her rush off, the dog taking a wide berth around him as he hurried along beside Reena. As usual, Magnus felt a sense of emptiness fill him. He had thought his pursuit of Reena would be easy. She was, after all, a woman, and women were not that difficult to understand. Show her interest, comment on her beauty, and a woman would respond. However, the more time he spent with Reena, the more he realized she was not like other women. Comments on her work meant more to her than comments about her lovely features. She grew thrilled when offered quills and paper but was less enthusiastic when offered fine gems. If the land needed scouting, she was quick to request permission to go so that she could accurately map the area.

She would forage in the woods for feathers to make her quills while other women busied themselves making candles or stitching. People interested her, and she watched them speak, walk, bend, move about, and she would reproduce their movements on paper, making them appear alive.

And her mind flowed as creatively as her hand, conversation with her never being boring. The more time spent with her, the more time he wished to spend with her, and he was surprised that by winter’s end he had not yet made love to her. It was not that he had not thought about it; she was constantly on his mind, and he constantly thought of her naked in his arms.

Nay, it was that he wanted more than sex; he wanted Reena to
love
him, now and always. He wanted her as his wife. He wanted to spend all the rest of their days together, have children and grow old together. He wanted her forever by his side.

He loved her that much. He could not say when he had come to fully realize his love. It had developed naturally, starting from a mere interest in a small wisp of a woman and growing into a love he would forever cherish.

How he would proceed from here he was not certain. That they would wed he had no doubt. She would love him; he would have it no other way.

He laughed to himself as he entered the keep. He knew full well that Reena felt the same toward him as he did toward her. He felt it when she melted in his arms or when she was left breathless from his kisses or the way she responded to his intimate touch.

They would wed; it was simple. After they returned from this short excursion he would see to speaking with her father and settling the matter. He entered the great hall feeling pleased with himself and issuing orders that departure time was within the hour.

Reena was breathless by the time she reached Brigid’s cottage. Horace raced forward, jumping up and down around Brigid, who attempted to pet the bouncing dog.

“I heard you are leaving for a few days,” Brigid said, giving Reena time to catch her breath. “And aye, I will look after Horace and your parents and be watchful and careful.”

Reena laughed. “You know me too well, though you did miss one.”

Brigid gave it thought and shook her head. “I can think of no other.”

“Thomas perhaps?”

Brigid gave a hasty twist of her head toward the cottage roof. “Shhh, he will hear you. He works on repairs to the backside of the cottage roof.”

Reena stepped closer to her friend. “Have you not made mention of your feelings to him?”

Brigid kept her voice to a whisper. “I know not what to do or how I feel. One moment I feel myself in love with him, the next I feel guilty for even thinking I could love anyone other than John, and then sometimes. . . .” She sighed heavily.

“You want him to hold you in his big arms.”

Brigid stared at her friend. “How did you know that?” Her eyes widened in realization. “You feel the same toward Magnus.”

“Minus guilt, add confusion.”

“And he toward you?”

“I think he loves me, but then I know nothing of love.” Reena sighed in frustration. “There are times when we have come close to—” She stopped, not certain whether to share the intimate details, then realizing she would learn nothing if she did not discuss it with Brigid, who was certainly more knowledgeable than she.

“Being intimate?” Brigid asked bluntly, making it less difficult for her friend to share.

“Aye, intimate, but love is never mentioned, and I know not what to do.”

“Do you love the Legend?”

Reena shivered and hugged herself. “That is another problem. I know Magnus well, but the Legend remains a mystery to me. I know they are one, and yet they appear to be two different men. While I feel comfortable with Magnus, I cannot help but feel a sense of unease, perhaps even a twinge of fear, when the Legend steps forth.”

“And who do you go with on this mapping quest?”

“Magnus.”

“Are you certain?” Brigid asked, her glance going past Reena, and her eyes rounding as she looked in the distance.

“The Legend waits for me?” Reena barely whispered.

“Aye, that he does in all his glory.” Brigid shivered. “I can understand your apprehension. His clothes are as black as the night, as is his helmet. I can understand how his enemies would think him a vengeful demon.” She lowered her voice to a hushed whisper. “I think it is time you get to know the Legend. Only then will you truly come to know Magnus.”

Reena nodded her head slowly, not certain if she actually agreed with her friend, but having no other recourse. Of course Horace peeking from behind Brigid and whining at what he saw did not help the situation.

“He waits,” Brigid said and gave Reena a slight push.

Reena caught sight of Thomas’s head near the peak of the roof and cast a glance his way. “He waits also.”

The two women hugged and reluctantly parted, neither ready to deal with men and love.

Reena hurried her steps, her legs trembling after catching sight of the Legend. His appearance certainly intimidated. He looked larger, broader, stron-ger and much more unforgiving. He seemed opposite of Magnus, and yet they were one.

He spoke not a word to her when she walked up to him; he simply grabbed her around the waist, lifted her up on her horse, handed her the reins, then mounted his own black steed. With his hand firm on his reins, he gave the signal to depart.

Two men led and two men followed.

Villagers waved farewells, children trailed along the side smiling and waving exuberantly, dogs chased at their feet, and laughter drifted in the crisp spring air. Reena then noticed the double guards at the barbican and that the portcullis remained descended a quarter of the way, reminding her that the keep was on alert, ready and waiting.

“You do not worry that Kilkern may cause us harm?” she asked.

The Legend kept his glance straight ahead. “We remain on my land and he knows better than to attack a lord on his own soil. He would have much to explain to the king. Besides, there are more of my men about than you know. Our protection is not in question.”

His imposing tone and arrogant confidence sent a shiver racing through her. Who was this man she rode beside? He sounded nothing like the Magnus she knew who treated his tenants fairly and was patient with a cowardly but loveable pup.

He was the Legend.

The man she had learned about listening to tales when she was young. The tale of the Legend had been the one that had caused her to huddle beneath the blanket in fright. She had promised her young self that she would keep her distance from the Legend, and here she was riding next to him and falling in love with him.

But what did she really know of the Legend?

His infamous exploits had earned him his name, but how had it all begun? He had not set out to become the Legend. Had life circumstances forced the roll upon him?

She suddenly became quite curious. “How did you become a warrior?”

He kept his eyes on the road ahead of him and answered, “Out of necessity.”

She waited for further explanation. When none was forthcoming, she continued her query. “What necessity?”

“Survival.”

His short answers gave the impression that he did not wish to discuss the topic, but Reena was persistent. “For yourself or others.” She purposely did not mention his mother, but she felt that perhaps the woman had helped determine her son’s fate.

He turned to look at her, and she swallowed the nervous lump that rose in her throat. His dark eyes glared, and his helmet concealed, and his lips, which she often thought tasted like warm honey when he kissed her senseless, were set tight.

She had asked a question that appeared not to please him, and she thought perhaps he would not answer her.

After several silent moments he spoke. “Are you certain you wish this discussion now?”

He had warned her about learning about the Legend. Was she ready? Or did she really have a choice? Was it not time she knew all about the man she felt she loved?

“Aye.”

Another moment of silence was followed by a frustrated sigh, and then he began. “Life was difficult after my mother and I made our escape. Our coins went quickly, especially since my mother had a tender heart. The group of people we joined was accepting and generous with what little they had, but one woman in particular was ill and required much care and what healing potions could be found. Though we had traveled as far from Dunhurnal land as we could, my mother could not take the chance and be seen. She remained at the campsite while others went out and scavenged for food and things we needed, as well as going to purchase potions for Lena, at least until our coins ran out.

“Stealing food at times was the only way we did not starve. I did well, being young and lightweight and quick on my feet, until one day I stole from the wrong person.”

Memories silenced him momentarily, and Reena waited for him to continue.

“I attempted a theft from a wealthy man protected by four guards who had just left an inn. I was caught and they were beating me rather badly when a warrior happened upon the scene and rescued me. I knew when I watched him effortlessly defend himself against the four men that I wanted to be as powerful a warrior as he.

“His name was James, and he returned me to my campsite bruised and bloodied. When my mother rushed to my side to care for me, he grabbed her arm and ordered her to leave me be, that I was a man and would lick my own wounds for being so foolish.

“That was the beginning of my warrior’s training. When James learned of our plight, he took me aside and told me that it was my duty to see that my stepfather paid for what he did to my mother and to my honor as a man.”

“He taught you then?” Reena asked.

“He taught me well and all I thought would be necessary to know to become a great warrior.”

“Not so?”

He shook his head. “Not near enough. He told me that patience and gratitude were the most important attributes a warrior could possess. I did not understand him, but I was soon to find out. He sent me away to learn from his friends, and that is when I became a true warrior. I learned combat skills I never knew existed, and I learned just how patience could save not only my own life but also the lives of many, and how gratitude for all that I had learned could greatly benefit me, that taking nothing for granted would win me wars and wealth, and my reputation grew.”

“Until?”

He hesitated. “Do you really wish to hear this, Reena?”