Lion's Bride (12 page)

“Meet me in the courtyard at noon,” he said without opening his eyes.

“Why?”

“Because I wish it. Didn’t Kadar tell you to bear me company?”

“Yes.”

“Then bear me company in the courtyard this noon.”

“But I don’t—” He had turned over on his side, ignoring her. She opened the door. “If it pleases me.”

“I’m sure it will please you to keep your promise.”

She sighed with exasperation as she shut the door. She did not want to meet with him again so soon. It was too wearing on the emotions. When Kadar had asked her this service, she had known that it would be difficult, but she had not thought she would feel this vulnerable. It would be easier if she just had to confront surliness and rejection. She couldn’t understand his sudden interest in her past when he had told her before that he did not care about the details of her life. Now he was asking too many questions, probing too deeply. It disturbed her. Her instinct was to avoid him until her composure returned.

But she had promised Kadar.

Well, then she would have to make sure Ware had no opportunity to continue that intimacy. He could not ask a multitude of questions if others were present. She would just make certain she was never alone with him.

She had not needed to worry about being alone with Ware, Thea thought dazedly, as she saw the column of mounted soldiers fully armored and filling the courtyard. There was even a wagon being readied for departure at the rear.

“Where have you been?” Ware frowned down at her as he brought his horse closer to the steps. “I told you noon.”

“It’s only a little after.” She was too astonished to take offense at his brusqueness. “Where are you going?”

“I didn’t bring you back enough of those damned mulberry leaves,” he growled. “You’ll need more now that you’re staying.”

He was right. It would be at least two months before Kadar came back with Selene, and she had only another three-week supply. “You’re taking all these men? But you said you wouldn’t risk—”

“Things are different now.” He bent down and extended his arms. “Come. I want to get back before dark.”

“I’m to go also?”

“Why else would I tell you to meet me?”

“You wouldn’t take me before.”

“I told you, things are different now. I may need you.”

Then, of course, she must go. She took a step closer and he swung her up before him. “But you know what the tree looks like now.”

He didn’t answer as he waved the column forward.

Riding with him today was different from that night he had brought her to Dundragon. The metal of armor pressing against her back was already hot from the sun, and yet she was oddly comfortable. “Are we bringing the wagon to carry the leaves?”

“Yes.”

“We won’t need it. A few baskets will be all that’s necessary.”

“I’m taking no chances.”

“But it’s a waste of—”

“Are you going to chatter all afternoon?”

“Not if you refuse to listen to good sense. Why should I care if you look foolish before your men?” She abandoned the conversation and leaned back against him. She didn’t want to talk anyway. The scent of cypress and palm were drifting to her, and the sun on her face brought its own contentment.

An hour later they drew up on the slope leading to the thatch of mulberry trees. It was too soon, she thought languidly.

Ware dismounted and plucked her from the saddle. His bearing was tense as his gaze raked the grove and then the foothills surrounding them.

“What is it?” she asked. “I saw no one. Is there someone here?”

He didn’t answer for an instant, and then she saw him relax. “No, there’s no one here.” He turned away and barked orders to his soldiers, dividing his forces so that half were to fetch the leaves while the others were to remain on guard. She drifted down the slope and into the grove, gazing with pleasure around her. The trees were strong, nurtured by a kinder sun than in Constantinople. They would give shade and sustenance for many years to—”

She whirled as a branch crashed to the ground. Abdul’s sword cleaved through the air and bit into another branch.

“No!” She ran toward him. “Stop it.”

He stared at her, startled.

“Stand back.” Ware was striding toward her. “He’s only getting your leaves.” He gestured to the soldiers who were moving with swords drawn on the trees. “For God’s sake, that’s what you want.”

“You must pick the leaves and leave the branches. I won’t have the trees destroyed.”

“It will take twice as long,” Abdul said. “And we have no ladders for climbing.”

“Is that how you got my leaves?” Thea asked Ware.

“Did you think I blew on them and they fell to the earth?” Ware asked.

“I suppose it’s my fault. I should have told you to be careful of the trees.” She turned back to Abdul. “But you cannot cut these branches.”

Abdul looked at Ware.

“I’ll not have my soldiers take off their armor to climb those trees,” Ware said grimly.

“Then I’ll pick the leaves myself,” Thea said. “It will take a little longer, but I told you we don’t need a wagonload of leaves.”

“I don’t want it to take longer.” He stared at her determined expression and then whirled away in exasperation. “By all the saints. Abdul, have those men climb the lower branches and pick the leaves. But they’re not to take off their armor.”

Abdul sighed and turned away.

“I’m truly not being unreasonable,” Thea said. “These mulberry trees are very important. If you could see what beauty results from the—”

“It’s being done,” Ware said. “It doesn’t matter if it’s reasonable or not. I just want this over as quickly as possible.” He grimaced. “And I’d wager my men feel the same way. That armor is heavy and not meant to be worn when climbing trees. Besides, there is little dignity in the task. A soldier should not be asked to climb trees and pick leaves.”

“It’s a worthy task,” Thea said. “It should make no difference who does it. A tree gives sustenance—”

A crash behind her.

She whirled angrily, thinking that Abdul had disobeyed Ware’s order.

Abdul was sprawled beneath the tree, clutching a leaf to his armored chest. “I slipped,” he said apologetically to Ware.

“I see you did,” Ware said solemnly.

“It won’t happen again, my lord.”

Another crash. Another soldier fell to earth. Abdul gloomily amended, “Or maybe it will.”

“I hope not,” Ware said.

“I should go help.” Thea frowned worriedly. “I want no one harmed.”

“Stay,” Ware murmured. “The branches are too close to the ground to offer more harm than a bruise or two.”

She became conscious of some emotion beneath Ware’s impassiveness. His gaze was narrowed as he watched the soldiers struggle clumsily on the branches. It was as if he were waiting for something.

Another soldier crashed to earth.

She heard a strangled sound from Ware.

A minute later a fourth man sprawled on the ground.

“They’re falling like overripe oranges,” Ware gasped.

“It’s not fair they should—” She started toward the grove. “I’ll tell them to come down.”

Ware grabbed her arm. “Don’t you dare.”

“But I cannot let—”

Ware was laughing. His entire body was shaking with mirth. He had to reach out and grab at his saddle to keep upright.

“You think it funny?” she asked wonderingly.

“Like oranges.” Tears were running down his cheeks. “Like oranges…”

He was not the only one laughing. She saw to her amazement that the soldiers in the grove were also roaring with laughter.

A fifth armored soldier slipped from a limb, spreading his arms like wings as he tried to catch his balance.

She found her own lips twitching. “I should not—It’s my fault that—” She couldn’t help it. She started to laugh and couldn’t stop. When she could speak, she shook her head. “When I was at Jedha, I didn’t think there was any laughter left in the world, and yet today…It makes me feel guilty.”

“It should not. Laughter is good.” He gestured to the men below. “They lost family and friends. Do you think they no longer remember their loss because they found something to laugh about today? Laughter heals.” He added almost inaudibly, “I had forgotten….”

She stared at him in fascination. He was a different man from the one she had come to know. The lines of bitterness and cynicism had smoothed from his face, leaving only weariness and a little wistfulness. The softness wouldn’t stay; it was already changing. But she had seen it, she had shared his laughter, and she knew she would always remember.

His gaze shifted back to her face, and any hint of softness vanished. “Why do you always stare at me as if I were some odd breed of camel?”

She was immediately on the defensive. “I don’t stare—” She stopped as she abruptly realized that antagonism was what he wanted of her. Why should she give him that satisfaction when she was feeling more mellow than combative? “In truth you do remind me of a camel. It is the eyelashes, I think.”

He frowned. “Eyelashes?”

“Camels have long eyelashes too. Many women would envy them.”

His eyes widened with outrage before his expression became even more forbidding. “Are you saying I have eyelashes like a woman?”

“Woman?” She gazed at him with bland innocence. “I thought we were speaking of camels.”

“You know very well—” He broke off and a grudging smile touched his lips. “I begin to feel sorry for Nicholas.”

“And you’re also as bad-tempered as a camel.” She pretended to think. “Though I’ve never seen you spit at anyone.”

“I may start any minute.”

“Then I’d better go down and help pick my leaves.” She started down the incline. “Your soldiers don’t seem to be very good at it.” She glanced over her shoulder. “I think you should train them in—” She forgot what she had been going to say when she saw how he was looking at her. Warmth. Amusement. Respect. From Ware such emotions were far more incomprehensible and disconcerting than lust or anger. She hurriedly glanced away and her pace quickened.

An hour later the baskets were filled and loaded in the wagon, and Thea climbed back to Ware.

“We’re finished,” she said. “Though not with any help from you.”

“A knight should never compromise his dignity. My men would never respect me again if they saw me tumbling from a tree.”

She made a derogatory noise.

“You don’t believe me?”

“I think you have too much pride. But we’ve prevailed without you. We can leave now.”

“Not yet.”

“We have more than enough leaves.”

“Did you find any young trees suitable for replanting?”

She stared at him, puzzled. “I suppose there were three or four. I paid little attention.”

“Get them.” He motioned to Abdul, who was standing by the wagon. “Go with her and obey her instructions.”

Abdul looked alarmed. “I thought we were done with climbing trees, my lord.”

“Digging, not climbing.”

A brilliant smile lit Abdul’s face. “That is good.”

“I don’t need any trees,” Thea protested. “They would have to be replanted immediately and would not be of any use for a few years.”

“I want the trees.”

“There’s no place to plant them at the castle.”

“The green on the north side overlooking the cliff.”

He had clearly thought about this, she realized. “But it would be wasted effort. I’ll be gone long before they even take firm root.”

“Silk is a profitable business. Perhaps I’ll have Jasmine tend the trees and grow silk for the trade.” He smiled. “If you’ll spare us some of your valuable worms?”

“Of course,” she said doubtfully. “And I’ll teach Jasmine how to care for them and gather the strands. You really wish this?”

“I really wish it. Perhaps someday I’ll grow weary of crunching heads and want a more peaceful occupation. It’s not completely beyond possib—” He broke off and went still.

“What is it?”

His head lifted, and his gaze turned to the rocks on the hill.

Danger. The threat vibrated from every muscle in his body. It could not have been clearer if he had spoken the word.

“What’s wrong?”

His gaze never left the boulders. “Get the trees.”

“You said there was no one here.”

“Dammit, there wasn’t anyone.”

“Is it the same people who set fire to the village?”

“No.”

She impulsively reached out and put her hand on his arm. “Then why are you—”

“Don’t touch me!” He jerked away as if she had burned him. His eyes blazed down at her. “There’s no one there. Go get those trees. Hurry.”

She backed away from him, then turned and walked quickly down the hill with Abdul following. Before she reached the grove, five more soldiers joined Abdul. A half-dozen armored men to uproot a few trees? She glanced up the hill.

Ware had moved away from his horse and was standing facing the boulders. Defiance. Boldness. Challenge. He had given her an armed escort, yet he was standing in full view, as if taunting whoever was on that hillside.

Or diverting?

“My lord said to hurry,” Abdul reminded her.

She hesitated. Her instinct was to return to Ware, yet if there was danger of attack, wouldn’t he have ordered the men back to the castle? Perhaps it was her imagination. Perhaps there was no one on that hillside and Ware’s change of attitude was just moodiness. The argument didn’t convince her, but if she went to him without the trees, he would only send her to the grove again. The quickest way to resolve the situation was to get the mulberries and ride away from here as soon as possible.

“Then we will hurry,” she answered. “Follow me.”

Vaden watched the fourth tree being loaded into the wagon.

It was the woman who guided the disposition of the trees. It had been the woman who had forced Ware’s soldiers to climb like monkeys. It has been the woman who had laughed with Ware and reached out and touched him. It did not matter that Ware had flinched away. He had become aware of Vaden by that time, and the motion had been as revealing as what had gone before.

Ware was still standing looking up at him, protecting the woman by offering himself as target. It was a brave move, but Vaden could not make the kill today. If he missed, Ware’s soldiers would swarm over the hillside, and Vaden had no desire to die.