Sharon Lanergan (11 page)

Chapter Fifteen

Brian leaned against the kitchen wall and watched wearily as the servants carried in large buckets of water and tossed them into the tub waiting by the roaring kitchen fire.

Exhaustion threatened to claim him and he’d wanted to fall into bed, but his family insisted he wash the soot and grime and the smell of smoke from him first.

“The bath is ready, my lord,” one of the serving women announced.

Keeping his eyes closed, Brian frowned. The woman’s voice was familiar.

“My lord?”

Brian opened his eyes slowly, reluctantly. His head ached, Hell, his body ached. He blinked.

The serving woman stood directly in front of him. She had long blonde hair and wore a tight kirtle across her ample bosom. She smiled.

“Good day to you, Brian,” she said with an all-knowing familiarity. “Do you remember me?”

Brian almost shook his head and said he did not. His chest ached from coughing and he could barely remember his own name at the moment.

“Vanessa,” he muttered.

She nodded. “Aye, I was hoping you remembered. How are you feeling? I heard what you did.”

“Like I want to sleep for a fortnight.”

Vanessa laughed as though he’d told some great jest. She leaned in closer, almost close enough to touch him.

“Shall I help you undress? I can bathe you, too. This castle has no mistress to take over the duty.” Her smile widened.

Brian shook his head. “Nay. I have managed to care for my own personal needs for a long time. I thank you for the offer, though.”

Vanessa’s grin dimmed. “Well, if you are certain.”

Brian tried to remember what it was Agnes had told him of the woman. He gritted his teeth, frustrated with his fog enshrouded mind.

“I thought you came to the village to visit your parents,” Brian said, remembering at last. “Why are you working as a servant in the castle?”

“I decided to stay for a while,” Vanessa admitted. “When I heard you’d returned, I…well, I thought mayhap we could get together and talk over old times. It’s been a long time.”

“Later, mayhap,” Brian told her. “I just want to sink into that tub for now.”

“At least let me help you get out of your clothes.” Vanessa reached for his jerkin. “You can barely stand.”

Brian allowed her to pull first his jerkin and then the shirt underneath off. Then she reached for the laces of his breeches.

“Brian, I…” Constance stopped, having just come into the kitchen. She stared first at Vanessa’s face and then her gaze dropped to Vanessa’s hands.

“Constance, come in.” Brian pushed away Vanessa’s fingers.

Constance’s frown was troubled. “I don’t want to interrupt anything.”

Vanessa smiled and curtsied. “Begging your pardon, milady. Brian and I are old friends.”

“And Vanessa was just leaving,” Brian added, inclining his head toward the exit.

Her smile brittle, Vanessa nodded and walked past Constance. She handed his jerkin and shirt to Constance as she passed.

Constance’s gaze followed her out and then she turned to face Brian again. Her expression was unreadable.

“I really did not intend to interrupt,” Constance said.

“There was naught to interfere with. Vanessa is in the past.” Brian glanced at the tub wearily. “If you can but help me to it, I can manage the rest.”

Constance smiled. “I will help you, if you like.”

Brian hesitated. He did not know whether to accept her assistance with his bath or not. She was the first woman he’d been with in a long time. He wasn’t sure how he felt about what was between them yet. There’d been no time to think.

“It’s a mere bath, Brian,” Constance chided, as though she could read his thoughts.

She was right. Brian agreed.

Constance helped him to walk the short distance between the wall he used for support and the large wooden tub.

She arched an eyebrow, then lowered her fingers to his breeches and helped him slide them off.

Brian lifted one leg over the rim and then the other, and slowly lowered himself into the warm water.

“Lean back,” Constance ordered, and he willingly obeyed.

“Is the healer still with Trevor?” Brian asked.

Constance reached for the circle of herbal soap and rubbed it on Brian’s bare chest.

“Aye, but Trevor has awakened. He remembers naught of what occurred.”

Brian nodded. “I am just glad he has awakened. He’s been through enough.”

“I agree.”

Brian peered out of half closed lids. “And you. How are you?”

She gave him a soft smile while soaping up his hair. “I am much better now I know the two of you are all right. I was very frightened.”

“Tell Telford to send the healer home when he is done with Trevor. I need him not.”

“Very well.”

“I need sleep only,” he insisted.

“As you say.” She scooped up water in her hands and tossed it over his soapy hair.

Brian frowned. “Constance.”

“I wonder, my lord, why you had that scrap of material with you when you went into the stables,” Constance said before he could say anything else. “It was the one we found by the ruins, wasn’t it?”

Brian looked away, uncertain how to answer her question. He could lie and say he had picked it up on the way out of his room. She might wonder why, but at least she wouldn’t guess the truth. If it was the truth.

He’d found the bit of cloth in the stables when he went in for Trevor and Valiant. The third piece he’d found. Either Loutrant was alive or someone wanted him to believe he was.

“Brian?”

He didn’t want Constance to be afraid. Not again. He smiled reassuringly.

“I must have picked it up without even thinking when we left my room this morning.” He shrugged.

Constance stared for a moment, as though considering his words, then she nodded and leaned back on her thighs.

“You are all through, my lord. Now you may return to your room to rest.”

“Thank the Lord,” Brian breathed.

“Are you hungry? I can have you brought some cold meats and a bit of cheese.”

Brian stroked her hair back behind her ear with wet fingers. “Aye, thank you, Constance.”

****

He was already asleep.

Constance smiled and placed the small trencher of cold meats on the table in Brian’s room. It hadn’t taken him long after he finished his bath.

She crossed her arms in front of her. The single candle she’d brought with her provided the only illumination in the room.

Lord, he was beautiful. He lay on his back and a lock of brown hair fell over his left eye. His right arm was slung back above his head. Along the top of his cheeks his long black lashes curled.

Constance glanced at her stomach and wondered what it would be like to have his children. Little boys who favored their father. She shook her head at the fanciful thought. Did she want a bastard son? She’d had no indication from Brian she would ever become more than what she was now.

Which was what? Constance had no notion.

She turned away. After all, it wouldn’t do to spend the rest of the day watching Brian sleep. She would just leave the trencher behind and he could have some when he finally did awaken.

Glancing in the direction of the table, Constance noticed the scraps of material Brian seemed so fascinated by. Frowning, she walked to the table and held the candle aloft.

Lined up next to each other were three pieces of cloth. A square one that must have been the piece Brian told her he already had, the jagged one she found attached to the tree by the ruins, and the scorched one Brian held clenched in his fist earlier after rescuing Trevor from the burning stables.

Constance ran a finger over each one. They were of various sizes but they all had the same gold thread embroidered throughout. The thread formed a pattern. Parts of an animal.

She studied the largest scrap. Lifting up the square one, Constance peered closer at it. It was a lion holding a dagger in his teeth. Where had she seen the pattern before?

Brian moaned in the bed.

Startled, Constance dropped the piece of material. She set the candlestick down and bent down to pick it up. Closing her fingers around it, she concentrated. What was it about the lion? It was so familiar.

Shaking her head, she straightened and placed the square next to the other scraps. She grabbed her candle and exited the room.

“What were you doing?” Stephen’s voice startled her.

Constance flushed. Then she straightened her spine. She had no reason for guilt. “I was just bringing some food to Brian,” she said. “And what were you doing skulking about the hall?”

Stephen raised an eyebrow, and then smiled. “I have a room down here, remember?”

Constance nodded, brushed past him and continued down the hall. She wanted to check on Trevor.

“Constance?” Stephen called after her.

She stopped, but did not turn around.

“Are you all right?”

“Of course,” she replied, her shoulders stiffening. She hoped Stephen wouldn’t notice.

Constance stopped outside Trevor’s door and heard voices coming from within. From the sound of it, Nick and Telford were in the room with him now.

She decided to come back later and turned away, her mind going back to the familiar lion embroidered on the scraps of material Brian had collected.

Where had she seen such a symbol? Shaking her head, she walked down the hall to her own chamber. Her hand froze on the handle.

A golden lion? Why hadn’t she realized before?

Loutrant
.

Chapter Sixteen

A wave of nausea swept through Constance.

“Nay,” she whispered aloud. She clutched her stomach. It could not be.

An image of Loutrant swam before her eyes.

“I said you would never be rid of me,” he said, flashing a smile.

“No!” Constance yelled, and covered her face with her hands.

He grabbed her arms and shook her. She screamed and pulled away.

“Leave me alone,” she cried, and pushed him with all her might.

Constance ran from him, down the hall, which for some reason seemed twice as long as it had been only moments before. How had he found her?

“Constance.”

She was pulled into two powerful arms. For a moment, she struggled.

“Constance,” he said again, more urgently.

Constance blinked.

Brian.

He stood in the doorway of his room and his arms were around her. Constance exhaled, her breath coming out in sharp, painful gasps.

“I’ve got you,” Brian soothed, pushing her head down to his shoulder. “It’s all right, Stephen, I’ll take care of her.”

“Are you certain?” Stephen asked from somewhere down the hall. “She sounds terrified. Those screams… “

“I know.”

She felt Brian move and realized he was pulling her inside his room. He closed the door, then tilted her face up to meet his midnight gaze.

A hot tear slipped down her cheek. Constance wiped at it.

“Tell me,” he urged in the barest of whispers.

“I—I thought I saw Loutrant,” Constance gulped, and shook her head. “I must have had some sort of a dream.”

Brian nodded. “I heard you cry out. Stephen did too.”

Constance squeezed her eyes shut, allowing more tears to fall. “Stephen. He must have grabbed me.”

“Constance, look at me.”

She did as he said, though she expected to view censure of some sort, but she saw only kindness and concern.

“You know you can tell me anything, don’t you?” Brian asked, his thumb wiping at the falling tears.

Her throat clogged, and she couldn’t form words. She merely shook her head, then laid her head against his chest.

Brian scooped her up in his arms and walked the short distance to the bed. He sat down on the edge and held her close.

“What did you see?” Brian asked against her hair. He placed a kiss on top of her head.

Constance wrapped her arms around his neck and snuggled against his throat. She didn’t want to tell him. Couldn’t admit her thoughts turned to Loutrant because of the embroidered lions on the cloths he’d found. She bit her lip.

“I don’t know, really,” she lied.

Her thoughts had been insane, anyway, hadn’t they? So the emblem had been Loutrant’s family coat of arms? It meant naught. He was dead, thank the Lord.

“You’re trembling.”

“I’m cold,” Constance whispered.

“Do you want me to wrap the fur around you?”

“Nay.” Constance whispered, her gaze going to his strong jaw. She stroked it with her fingertips and he lowered his gaze. “Brian, make love to me.”

“Constance.”

“Please,” Constance said, knowing she begged, and not caring. “I need you.”

Her hands framed his face and she brought his lips down. She expected hesitation, and was therefore surprised when his mouth came down hard and bruising on hers. He thrilled her by growling low in his throat.

She loved this man so much and she wanted him to love her in return more than anything. If she could not have his love, at least she could have his body. His comfort.

Brian lowered her to the bed, covering her with his weight. She was already reaching to pull off his jerkin.

The task accomplished, Brian rolled to his back and pulled off her purple surcoat and kirtle. When they were divested of all their clothes, he flipped Constance underneath him.

He claimed her lips once more and threaded his fingers through her hair.

Now, with Brian, she could block out Loutrant, at least for a little while.

Constance opened her mouth; allowing his tongue to plunge forward, duel with hers.

Brian broke the kiss and trailed his lips down her throat and beyond, until he reached her breasts. He laved first one nipple, then the other, sending erotic waves through every inch of her body.

“Brian, yes,” she moaned.

He moved lower and for a moment, Constance stiffened in reaction. What did he have planned?

Constance raised herself onto her elbows and glanced down, catching sight of Brian just as his head dipped between her legs. Her lungs seized.

“Brian?”

“Hush,” he whispered against her thighs.

“Ah.” His tongue darted out and flicked her bud.

She’d died and gone to heaven. Falling back down against the bed, Constance let the wonderful sensations Brian worked with his tongue overcome her. He demanded all from her and she willingly gave it.

Just as she quivered from the aching sweetness, Brian covered her body with his and joined them as one.

Constance closed around him, tightening. His groan was her reward. A wanton smile curved her mouth.

“Are you trying to kill me?” He laughed, and took possession of her lips.

Constance broke the kiss and said seriously, “Nay, just make you want me the way I want you.”

“Sweetheart, you’re not even close to how much I desire you,” Brian assured her, quickening and deepening his thrusts.

His movements squelched any ability she had to form coherent speech. She pulled his head back to hers and mimicked what he did to her below with her tongue.

Brian lifted her legs higher and sank in deeper. Constance sensed he was very close to finding his release, and she squeezed. Clinging to him, raking his back with her nails, she came apart in his arms, even as he poured his seed into her with a hoarse shout of triumph.

He collapsed on her, but Constance didn’t mind his weight, in fact, took comfort from it, and she wrapped her arms and held him until they both fell into fitful slumber.

****

The crunch of leaves in the distance had Loutrant turning around. He tensed, his hand going instantly to the hilt of his sword.

“Who’s there?” he demanded.

No answer. Just the swirl of the fog wafting through the nearby trees.

Loutrant withdrew his sword and held it ready. The forests were unsafe and he didn’t intend to be victimized.

The hair on his neck bristled. He’d had an almost unnatural fear of forests since he’d been lost in one near his home as a child. Three days passed before his father found him.

The hoot of an owl made him jump and he cursed himself.
Damn fool.
Next he’d be screaming like a woman.

“Marcus?” he yelled, losing all patience.

He would have something to say about his brother’s choice of a meeting place.

Loutrant grit his teeth and leaned against the nearest tree. A forest at night, no less. What the hell was Marcus thinking?

“I’ll get you for this,” Loutrant muttered under his breath.

Eventually.

At the moment his main quarry was Brian Fitzroy. And everyone he cared about.

The mist parted in front of him and through it stepped a cloaked figure. Loutrant recognized him easily. He returned his sword to its scabbard and straightened from the tree.

“Well?” Loutrant demanded.

Marcus lowered the hood of his cloak. “Our man set the fire as instructed.”

“And?”

“The stables burned to the ground.” Marcus shrugged. “A few of the horses were rescued before it got out of hand, but most were lost.”

“Excellent.” Loutrant smiled.

Marcus took a deep breath and grimaced.

“What?” Loutrant asked.

“He told me Trevor Fitzroy went in the burning stables.”

Loutrant perked up. He only hoped it meant…

“But Brian rescued him,” Marcus added.

“Hell,” Loutrant cursed. Bloody interfering fool. “Anything else?”

Marcus shifted uncomfortably, then looked down at the ground.

“What, damn you?”

“You said you wanted him to watch everything at Fitzroy Castle,” Marcus said. “He said he noticed the girl.”

“Constance?”

“Aye, I think so. He said Brian seemed very close to a young woman with black hair.”

Loutrant clenched his fists, filled with unspeakable rage. Brian and Constance?

“Constance belongs to me.”

“Fin?”

Loutrant glanced at Marcus and knew from the wide eyed look his brother gave him he’d spoken the words aloud.

“He thinks to take away another woman belonging to me,” Loutrant snarled. “But I won’t let him.”

“Ah, Fin, I don’t think—”

“I am not interested in what you think, Marcus,” Loutrant cut him off. “Are they lovers?”

Marcus flinched at his brother’s tone. “I don’t know. He didn’t say. I would guess he probably doesn’t know himself.”

Loutrant turned away from Marcus and resisted the urge to draw his sword and run his brother through. He needed him for a time still. But damn, he wanted blood. Could taste his need for it.

Back under control, he turned and faced his young brother once more.

“Find out,” he ordered. “I want to know every detail. If they are lovers, I want to know how often and where they meet. And I want to know what Constance spends every waking hour doing. Do you understand me?”

“Aye, Fin,” Marcus said with a nod.

Loutrant took a step closer to Marcus and stood just inches from him. He sneered. “And don’t ever ask me to meet you in a forest again.”

****

“Good afternoon, Brian.”

Brian closed the door to his son’s room and faced Vanessa. She wore a rust kirtle and green surcoat. Her curly blonde hair, which dangled down her back, was dressed with tiny green stones.

“I’ve been looking for you,” Vanessa said.

“Have you?”

“You promised me yesterday we could spend some time talking over old times.” Her fingers dug into his arm.

Brian struggled to keep the irritation he felt off his face. One off-hand comment and he was forced to endure this insipid woman’s company? His mood was foul.

Constance had been gone from his bed when he awakened, and he told himself she left early rather than face endless questions from the others, but for some reason he couldn’t fathom, it bothered him.

And he hadn’t seen her all day, either. Not entirely all her fault. He’d been occupied most of the morning secretly training, as he had most days, and the better part of the afternoon he’d been visiting Trevor.

Now, when his intention was to seek out Constance, here was Vanessa.

“Aye, I did,” Brian admitted. “Shall we go down to the Great Hall? We can sit in front of the hearth.”

“I thought we could speak inside your chamber,” Vanessa pouted. “It’s so noisy down there. And no privacy.”

“I think it would be better down by the hearth.” It was all he could do to stop himself from tearing her talons from his arm. Had he ever found such a woman attractive? Apparently he had.

He steered her down the hall and to the stairs.

Brian was mildly annoyed to find no one sitting by the fire in Hall and no sign of Constance. He would have rather not spent any time with Vanessa alone. But if it couldn’t be helped, so be it.

He smiled and gestured for her to sit on one of the two wooden benches facing the hearth.

Vanessa took a seat on the bench on the right and Brian sat opposite her on the other bench.

“Oh, nay, Brian,” Vanessa protested, rising and sitting next to him. “We are friends. Why sit so far from me as though I am a blight?”

“Never.” Brian smiled, struggling to be nice. It was not her fault he found her less than appealing.

Vanessa returned his smile and held his hands. “I’ve always loved these big hands of yours.”

Brian cleared his throat. “I understand you’re visiting your parents. Where are you living now, Vanessa?”

“Well, after you died, er, disappeared,” she corrected, “I met a warrior from your father’s army. We fell in love and married.”

Brian blinked in surprise. Vanessa in love? He never would have imagined. “You did?”

Vanessa nodded. “Aye, but we never were able to have children and my husband died of a fever three years ago.”

“I’m sorry.”

Vanessa squeezed his hands. “‘Tis fine. But what of you, Brian? It must be terrible for you, knowing all these events happened while you were gone.”

Yet another person prodding him. Useless.

“I’d rather not talk about it,” Brian told her. “How long will you be visiting?”