Midnight Warrior (22 page)

“Don’t pull that!” Brynn said sharply. “That’s not a weed, it’s rosemary.”

“Sorry,” Gage said meekly. “It all looks the same to me.”

“I know. If it’s green, it’s a weed. If I didn’t watch you, I’d have no herbs left in my garden.”

“Not true. I’ve been growing quite skilled of late.”

She snorted but did not answer.

“What use do you make of rosemary?” he asked idly.

“Headaches and nervous disorders. I also make salves for joint pain and bruises.”

He pointed to a low-growing bush with glossy leaves. “And this one?”

“That’s thyme. It’s used for women’s problems. Also, the oil cleanses wounds.” She slanted him a glance from beneath her lashes. “And eases swollen testicles.”

“Ah, clearly an herb of infinite worth. Be sure you keep a vast quantity on hand.”

Brynn chuckled. “The first frost is late this year, but it’s bound to come soon. Next time we come here I
must pick enough herbs to replenish my medicine pouch. I’ve used almost all I had tending Malik and Adwen.”

“I don’t think they’ll need your medicines much longer,” Gage said as he pulled another weed. “The last time I visited them, they seemed much better.”

“They are better.” She smiled with contentment. Every day Adwen and Malik were gaining in strength and being thrown together in proximity seemed to be good for both of them. Malik had forgotten his boredom in his concern for Adwen, while Adwen was developing a tart playfulness Brynn had never thought possible in her gentle friend. “Now I use only the occasional sleeping draught. But when they’re cured, someone else will need my herbs. There’s always a need.”

“So you’re never without them?”

“Are you ever without your sword?”

He chuckled. “Seldom. And never when I go forth to battle dragons.”

“Very prudent.”

“I’m growing to like this task.” He pulled another weed. “Perhaps I should abandon trade and turn farmer.”

“I cannot see you tilling the soil for any length of time.” Brynn looked up in amusement. “You’re much too impatient.”

“That charge is false.” He added softly, “I believe I’ve given you nothing but patience of late.”

She went still as the sudden sensuality of his tone took her off guard. It was the first time in the past two weeks he had allowed her a glimpse of the Gage she had first met at Hastings. During the days in between, he had treated her with the same half-whimsical half-humorous manner he displayed toward Malik.

He saw her response and added roughly, “It could not last forever, you know. I am no monk, Brynn.”

“That has come to my attention.” She lowered her
eyes to the work beneath her hands. “You wish me to return to your bed and be your whore?”

He muttered a curse. “You will not be my whore. I will hold you in honor and I’ll make sure no other man gives you insult.”

“To my face. What of the sneers behind my back? What of any children I bear you? You’re a bastard yourself. Would you have your children treated as you were?”

“No!” He drew a deep breath. “I’m not my father. I’ll make sure they are treated with fairness and not be made to feel shame.”

“Until you grow tired of me and decide that you wish another woman.”

“That will not happen.”

“How do I know? Women are always used for barter, and no one is more skilled at a bargain than you. Malik says you’re not constant and grow bored easily.”

“What do you want of me, damn you? What he says was true in the past, but I’ve never felt for any woman what I feel for you.”

And she had never felt the mixture of bonding, pain, and joy she had experienced when in his presence. But surely that was not love; it was too raw and earthy. Even during these last sunlit days she had been aware of strife and conflict beneath the surface. It would always be so with Gage Dumont, and that life was completely at odds with the peace she wanted. “I want you to let me go. I want no part of your world. All I want is to return to Gwynthal.”

“I’ve not recently noticed your discontentment at being here.”

“I am now.” Her hands moved quickly, feverishly, almost ripping the weeds from the ground. That’s what she must do with this dark temptation she experienced whenever she was near him, she thought desperately. Tear it out, banish it before it grew to dominate her entire life. “I wish to go home. Adwen is much stronger
and Malik is able to walk and even sit up in a chair. There’s no reason to linger here.”

“We will start for Gwynthal when—” He paused before correcting himself—“if I decide to do so.”

Her gaze flew to his face. “But there’s no reason not to go. What of the treasure? Do you not—”

“I’m not sure there is a treasure.”

She should have been aware he was still skeptical, but she had allowed herself to hope. “Why won’t you believe me?” She added bitterly, “Delmas and Lord Richard have no trouble.”

“Because they want to believe in it.”

“And you don’t?”

“I want it, if it exists. But at present I have another goal in mind.” He stared down into her eyes. “I have offered you all I can. You know I cannot wed you. If I could, I would do it.”

She stared at him in astonishment. “You would?”

He frowned. “Of course I would. Have I not made that clear?”

“No.”

His breath released in a low exclamation of exasperation. “God’s blood, I treat you with courtesy, I never touch you except in service, I let you keep that maddening silence on all things concerning your past. Is that the conduct of a man with a woman toward whom he has no permanent attachment?”

Bittersweet happiness surged through her as she gazed helplessly up at him. “It would not seem so.”

“I have never—I have true feeling for you, Brynn of Falkhaar. You have strength and humor and an honesty I have never before found in a woman.” His voice lowered to velvet persuasion. “And I believe you do not find me displeasing.”

He was storm and sunlight, earth and sky. Always changing, never the same. “No, you are not … displeasing.”

“Then come and live with me and let me care for you. I promise I will wed you when your vermin of a husband is dead.” He saw her go rigid, and his lips twisted. “No, I have no plans to kill him. I’ve learned enough about you to realize that would be the quickest way to lose you.” He paused. “But I don’t always act with reason, so it would be wise of you to accept my offer.”

“I cannot,” she whispered.

“Why not?” he asked harshly.

Disappointment flickered in his expression. He was always so armored that the emotion must have gone deep for him not to be able to keep it from her. Would his deepest emotions always hurt her like this? This pain was not as intense as when his father had died, but it was still a throbbing ache. She wanted to reach out and touch him, heal him, take away the grimness from his lips and make him smile.

“Don’t just look at me. Talk to me. Why?”

She must not touch him. She didn’t want to know if the pain was greater than she thought. “Gwynthal. I must have Gwynthal and you would not belong there.”

He smiled mockingly. “You don’t think I’m worthy to be part of your precious home?”

Peace and storm. Eternal beauty and constant change. “It’s not a question of worth.” She tried to put it into words. “You’re not the same. You couldn’t stay at Gwynthal and not change it into what you wanted to make it.” She added simply, “And that I could not bear.”

His expression did not change. “So it’s not a husband but a place I must battle. Very well.”

“Why can’t you see it’s not possible?”

“It’s entirely possible and it
will
happen.” He stood up and lifted her to her feet. His hand grasped her wrist as he moved toward the horses. “And quite soon. As you say, I’m an impatient man.” He lifted her onto her
mare and stood, looking up at her. “You want me. Take me. I don’t want a slave. Come to me willingly, Brynn.”

She shook her head.

The softness vanished from his expression and he smiled recklessly. “It’s not a good choice. Let’s hope you will change your mind.”

A carved teak chest was delivered by LeFont to Adwen’s chamber before dusk that day.

He smiled at Brynn as he set the chest down. “A gift from my lord. It just arrived from Hastings. He said to tell you that he hopes the gown fits.” He grimaced. “He sent my men combing the countryside for women capable of fashioning the material into a gown. It will please him if you wear it when you sit with him in the hall tonight.”

She frowned as she looked down at the chest. So she was once more to brave the scorn of the hall. Was this Gage’s way to show her what her lot would be if she was not under his protection?

LeFont said, “My lord said I was to wait until you opened the chest. He wants to make sure you’re pleased.”

“Open it, Brynn,” Adwen said eagerly. “I want to see your gift.”

Adwen was like a child in her delight, and Brynn couldn’t disappoint her. She slowly opened the lid.

Shimmering silk the brilliant blue of the noon sky seemed to reach out at her with a glowing life of its own. She gasped when she touched it. The fabric was as cool and soft as the wings of a butterfly.

“Let me see,” Adwen said.

Brynn lifted the gown and held it high.

“Beautiful.” Adwen eyes were wide with enchantment. “I’ve never seen anything so lovely.”

“It is silk from Byzantium,” Malik said. “Gage traded four horses for that chest of materials.”

“Why are you just standing there?” Adwen asked Brynn. “Go and put it on.”

She didn’t want to put it on. This gown was different from the one she had borrowed from Adwen. This was a gown from Gage’s world, and she had the strange feeling that if she wore it, she would become part of that world. “It would suit you far better, Adwen.”

“Lord Gage said that you were to wear it, demoiselle.” LeFont’s tone was polite, but there was an underlying command. “And that I was to return at evenfall to escort you to the hall.” He bowed politely. “May I tell him you’re pleased with his gift?”

“Of course she is pleased,” Adwen said. “Who would not be pleased with such a gift? It is a gown a queen would be proud to wear.”

“Demoiselle?” LeFont asked.

She shrugged wearily. “It is a fine gown.”

LeFont bowed and quickly left the room.

“What’s wrong, Brynn?” Adwen asked, frowning. “Don’t you like it?”

“Yes.” There was no use troubling Adwen over the true meaning behind the gift. She would not understand there could be anything but kindness behind such a lavish present. She doubted if Adwen had received a gift from Richard since her wedding day. “As you said, it’s a gown for a queen.”

“And you will look a queen in it,” Malik said gently.

She glanced at him. Gage had spent many hours with Malik during the last week. Had he told him of his plans for her? If he had not, she would be surprised if Malik had not guessed.

“I am no queen,” she said as she moved toward the anteroom. “I will only look myself, a brown wren dressed in peacock plumage.”

“Splendid,” LeFont said as he took her hand and led her down the dimly lit hall “My lord will be pleased.”

She did not answer. She did not feel splendid. She was tense and stiff and angry at her own helplessness. What did Gage think to prove with this ploy? She knew what she must face when she entered that hall that night. They might hide their scorn to please the invader, but she would know it was there. No amount of silk or display of riches could—

What was that?

She stopped as she caught a scurry of movement from the corner of her eye.

“Demoiselle?” Lefont asked.

A shadow sidled around the distant corner, out the door, and was gone.

An icy chill shuddered through her.

She knew that shadow.

“What is it?” LeFont’s hand went to the hilt of his sword. “Shall I—”

“No, it is nothing. Wait here!” She tore down the hall.

“Demoiselle!”

He was following her but she paid no attention. She dashed out the door; the air was cold, piercing the silk of her gown.

Where was he?

The door to the stable was open.

She flew across the courtyard and into the stable.

“Delmas!”

He whirled to face her, his eyes glittering wildly in the lantern light. “What do you wish of me, bitch?”

She quickly glanced over her shoulder. LeFont had not yet reached the courtyard. “Come with me.” She slammed the stable door shut and hurried past the stalls to the tiny room in the back. She closed the door and
leaned against it, her breath coming in gasps. “Why did you come back? You have to leave here at once.”

“You would like that, wouldn’t you?” he snarled. “You in your fine gown and your bastard of a protector. You want me to go away and forget all I’ve worked for these years. You want to give it all to
him
. Lord Richard cast me out to live in that hovel across the moors, but do you think I haven’t been watching you these weeks? I’ve seen you ride about and smile and laugh with that Norman dog. Well, it’s come to an end. I will have what is mine. I will go to the Norman and tell him—”

“No!”

“Don’t say no to me!” She could see the spittle at the corners of his mouth. “You’re all against me! Even Lord Richard thinks to abandon me. I won’t permit it. I will go to your Norman lover and demand—”

“Delmas, you’re not thinking clearly.” She crossed her arms over her chest to still their trembling. “You must not go near the Norman.”

His hand cracked against her cheek with all his power. She careened back to the wall.

“Whore!” He stepped closer and hit her again.

“Cheat!” His fist hit her mouth, breaking the skin.

He was a madman, she realized dizzily; this frustration and rage must have been simmering for the past fortnight, robbing him of both reason and fear. “Listen to me, Delmas. Don’t go to the Norman. He will hurt you.”

“And you have such tender concern for me,” he jeered.

“I don’t want you dead.”

“You lie.”

It was no lie. She would not be able to bear it if she was the cause of any death. She would never be able to look at Gage without seeing her own blame. “Go away. We won’t be here much longer. You’ll be safe if you—”