Midnight Warrior

by Iris Johansen

  “Pulling weeds. They’re trying to choke the life from my plants.”

  “And you’re fighting them off.” He knelt on the other side of the row and began to pull at the intruding sprigs. “Do your plants have their own dragons for you to battle against too?”

  “Of course. Where there is life, there is always death trying to take it away. If I didn’t fight it, I would become part of it and I would hate myself.”

  “And it was your mother who taught you about herbs?”

  She nodded. “From the time I was out of swaddling clothes I always knew that I must prepare myself to be a healer, to fight the dragons.” She looked at him gravely. “She told me that there are many kinds of warriors in the world and the best kind are the ones who give life, not take it away.”

  “I wouldn’t know about such benevolent warriors. I’ve known only the other kind.” His lips twisted. “The ones like myself.”

  “But you could change.”

  “Only if the world changed.” He reached out to pull another weed. “I could not tolerate life beneath a conqueror’s heel. Look at you. You’re a slave. What’s your reward for fighting your dragons?”

  “The battle itself,” she said simply.

  He glanced up and paused in mid motion. “Radiance …” he murmured.

  “What?”

  “Nothing. Just something Malik said about you.” He plucked the weed and reached for another. “Before he decided it would be a presumption to become enamored of you.”

  She chuckled. “Presumption? I didn’t think Malik had knowledge of the word. You are strange companions. Where did you meet?”

  “Byzantium.” He smiled. “He ran a sword through my arm.”

  “What?”

  “My caravan was attacked in the desert by Saracen bandits as I was returning to Normandy. Malik was leading them.”

  She frowned. “I cannot believe Malik a thief.”

  “He was an excellent thief. He and his men stole every scrap of goods, horses, and wagons in the caravan and rode away. Two days later he returned with horses and enough water to see us out of the desert.” He grinned. “He also bandaged my arm and gave me a lecture on fighting men who are obviously of superior skill.”

  “A thief …”

  “His village thought him a hero. They had suffered three years of drought and there was thirst and starvation until Malik took matters into his own hands. Tell me, would you choose virtue or life in the same circumstances?”

  She answered without hesitation. “Life.”

  “I thought as much. So did Malik. No one loves life as much as he does. Except, perhaps, you.” He looked around the glade. “He would like your garden.”

  “Yes.” She impulsively took his hand and placed it on the sun-warmed earth. “There is so much life here. It’s all around us. Can you feel it?”

  “Yes.” He turned his hand over and closed it around hers. “I’ve never felt more alive.”

  She inhaled sharply as she met his gaze. She had never felt more alive either. It was as if his life force were flowing into her, making her stronger, bringing her to the crest where earth met sky. She smiled luminously as she returned his clasp. “That is good.”

  “I want you,” he said thickly. “I want to be inside you. I want to feel how alive you are. Here. Now.”

  She felt a tiny flicker of disappointment. “As you like.”

  He muttered a curse as he dropped her hands. “I said I wanted it. I didn’t say I would force you to it.” He got to his feet and moved toward the bank. “You don’t understand.”

  “No, I don’t.” She watched him in bewilderment as he donned his clothes and then strode toward the horses.

  “Come along,” he said. “It’s time we got back.”

  She stood up and moved toward the mare, “If you would explain, I might—”

  “Don’t expect me to explain it to you when I don’t understand myself. We’re alone here. I don’t have to worry about you scourging me for bringing shame down upon you.” He tossed her onto the mare’s back and mounted his own horse. “And God knows, I don’t believe in the code of knightly behavior preached at William’s court. I’ve always found that it’s seldom used when it isn’t convenient.” He put spurs to his stallion. “Dammit, and it is most certainly not convenient.”

  He was in a rage of frustration and more storm ridden than she had ever seen him.

  Still, Brynn found herself smiling joyously as she followed him back to Redfern.

  Lord Richard met them in the courtyard. “I hope you found my Redfern as beautiful as I do, my lord. If you had told me you were riding out, I would have come with you.” He stepped forward and lifted Brynn down from her horse. “But I’m sure Brynn proved a most felicitous companion.”

  She quickly disengaged herself and stepped back. “I must get back to Malik and Adwen.” She met Gage’s eyes. “I trust you will not require me in the hall tonight?”

  “No.” He grimaced. “I believe we’ll dispense with your company. It appears to be too upsetting for proper digestion.”

  She smiled. “I’ve noticed it a common practice for a man to blame every discomfort on a woman.” She turned and started up the steps. “Look to yourself, my lord.”

  He chuckled and called after her. “I’ll endeavor to do so.” He paused. “If you will honor me with your presence tomorrow for another ride through the countryside.”

  The last words were spoken with the formality he might have shown a great lady. She stopped on the steps and turned back to scan his face for signs of mockery. She found none. “It will be my pleasure, my lord.” She started up the stairs again.

  “I’ll go with you.” Lord Richard hurried after her. “I’ve not paid a visit to my poor lady today.”

  What mischief was he planning now? She stopped and turned to face him. “She is too ill for visitors.”

  “But surely not for a husband? A husband is not a visitor.”

  “Brynn?” Gage asked softly.

  She cast him a swift glance. He wanted her to give him cause to violence. In Gage’s present uncertain temper it would not be wise to light any spark. She said curtly to Richard, “Come along, then.” She moved down the hall. “But you cannot stay long.”

  “I will not stay at all. I have no desire to see my pale rag of a wife. I wished only an opportunity to talk to you. The Norman seems to be always at your heels.” He added crudely, “Or in your body. The servants told me yesterday that they heard you grunting and screaming like the peasant you are after you banished Alice from his chamber.”

  She flinched at the words. She had not thought he could hurt her, but she felt suddenly besmirched. “Say what you have to say.”

  “The treasure. It has to be mine,” he whispered. “Ours. Why should the Norman have it?”

  “Delmas told me he had told you about Gwynthal. I never told him there was a treasure. How do you know he didn’t lie about it?”

  “He would not dare lie to me. He has no courage.” Richard smiled. “And he’s not overly clever. He actually thought I’d share the treasure with him, which only proves his stupidity. I don’t need him if I have you.”

  “But you don’t have me.”

  “Not at the moment, but I’ve always been good at ridding myself of obstacles.” He paused. “You can have no life with the Norman. He will only use you and then discard you. While I might even be willing to wed you.”

  She said coldly, “You have a wife.”

  “But the thread of her existence is so very fragile. If you were not so soft of heart, you could snap it yourself. However, I will see to it myself in time.”

  She felt her stomach churn, “You are truly a demon.”

  “No, just a man who knows what he wants. I was not destined to remain in the mud, groveling at the feet of other men.” He stared down at her. “The Norman knows what he wants too. I doubt if he would cavil at ridding himself of an encumbrance.”

  “You’re wrong. He’s not like yo
u,” she said fiercely.

  “Shall I call Delmas back and watch to discover if he is?”

  “No!”

  “You see?” he asked with satisfaction. “There is little to choose between the Norman and me. I would rid myself of a wife and he would rid you of a husband. You should be complimented. You must be as pleasing as Delilah if you can lure a man to his death.”

  Death. A wave of panic washed over her. “He is not like you,” she repeated. “He wouldn’t do it.”

  “You know he would,” Richard said. “I look forward to partaking of your skills. I’ve grown weary of meek, mewling women who give a man no challenge. Yes, I think a marriage is not totally out of the question.” He gave her a meaningful look. “Think well, Brynn. Join with me. Don’t destroy yourself.”

  She shook her head.

  “No?” His expression changed only slightly, but she received an impression of ugly menace. “Then I must change your mind. What a pity. I had hoped you would not make my task difficult.”

  Before she could reply, he turned on his heel and walked away.

  Eight

  “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.”