Edana smiled. “Bonny lasses only notice handsome lads.”
“Perhaps that is true of Celts,” Jacqueline retorted, well and tired of people assuming they understood her on the basis of her looks alone. “But I prefer to assess a person by his or her character.”
“Indeed?”
“Indeed. The man of whom I was thinking would not be called handsome by many. He is scarred from battle, and clearly bitter. It shows in his face that he has seen much ill in his days.”
Edana’s gaze was considering and Jacqueline knew the older woman guessed of whom she spoke. Edana wrung out a rag with care and placed a few leaves upon it. “Yet you call him handsome,” she mused. “As the devil, even. Do you not mean that his heart is filled with evil?”
Jacqueline thought of this for a moment, soothed by the ministrations of the older woman and the silence of the night. “I am not certain. He is fierce in anger, of that there can be no doubt,” she admitted with a frown. “He has not hurt me, though he had the chance. Indeed, he brought me here to be tended. And he had not forced himself upon me, though I was certain he would.”
“Perhaps he but waits his chance.”
“Aye, undoubtedly he does.” Jacqueline held her breath, doubting she could be more blunt than that.
Edana glanced up with mischief glinting in her eyes. “Or perhaps he did not find you fetching, lass.”
Jacqueline smiled, unable to be insulted when the old woman’s expression was so impish. Edana was teasing her, as an affectionate aunt might. “Perhaps not.”
“’Twould not be the first time a man’s taste changed to women with skin of darker hue, with black eyes and thick lashes, adorned lush perfumes and amorous games. They are of another breed, those women of the east, and men are oft enchanted by their charms. If your handsome man has been to Outremer, he might well find you naught but a pale and uninteresting virgin.”
Though the assessment was a reasonable one, it rankled unexpectedly. Jacqueline reminded herself that ’twas far preferable to have Angus consider her unappealing than to feel compelled to sample her. Indeed, it might be a sign that someone watched over her fate, that someone ensured that her chastity was maintained so that her pledges could be made.
But then, she remembered the heat of his stolen kiss, the press of his erection against her buttocks. He had been attracted to her, but he had denied his desire.
Because the presence of his companion deterred him?
“I fear him,” she whispered.
The old woman stilled at that confession and looked up. The mischief faded from her eyes as their gazes held. “As do I, lass,” she admitted softly. “As do I.”
Jacqueline’s heart sank. They could not both be prey to the knight’s whim. “But you know him!”
“I knew him.” Edana tied the end of the bandage around Jacqueline’s ankle with efficiency. “’Twas a long time ago.”
“But how? But when?”
“’Tis not my tale to tell.” Edana pushed to her feet and spoke brusquely. “Come along, lass. ’Tis too chill for an old woman’s bones to linger here. I will have your tale by the fire.”
Edana, having stood in the waters of the spring, moved through the darkness of the woods with unexpected agility, her cane swinging from her grip. More importantly, the lantern was in her other hand, and the light was fading into the distance with great speed.
Jacqueline leapt to her feet, not wanting to be left alone amidst the eerie clouties. She was startled to find it easier to put her weight upon her ankle. She frowned and tested her weight upon it twice, but it seemed more likely to bear her than before. She glanced back at the bubbling well and wondered.
But she was not one to credit pagan magic, not she.
No doubt the flesh was numb from the chill of the water. Aye, that was it. Jacqueline considered the forest for a long moment, even as a wolf howled in the distance.
She could flee again.
But Edana halted and glanced back, as though she had heard the younger woman’s thoughts. “He will have my head if you do not return with me,” she said darkly and Jacqueline had no doubt ’twas true. She could not repay the woman’s kindness with such a selfish gesture.
And perhaps together, they might escape whatever Angus had planned. At least, they might bar the door against him this night. ’Twas encouraging to not face such adversity alone. She picked up her skirts and darted after Edana.
Chapter Five
Edana felt a sympathy for Jacqueline’s plight, for she had no better idea what this changed Angus might do than the lass did. She was more than agreeable to the plea that they bar the door against the men, a deed that seemed to amuse Angus more than it troubled him. Edana knew that she was not alone in understanding that it could be forced, nor evidently was she alone in thinking it harmless to reassure the maiden.
This she found most interesting.
“We could escape through the back,” Jacqueline whispered. “The wood is aged there and none would know the truth of it in the darkness.”
Edana snorted. “You are his prize, lass, and no man lets a prize escape so readily as that. No doubt they check the perimeter moment by moment.”
Jacqueline heaved a sigh of frustration. “I imagine you speak aright. The man will be cursedly vigilant now.”
Edana chuckled despite herself. “Aye, he was oft known to be strong of will.”
“You know his tale, though, and you could share it with me.”
“I know but part of his tale, lass, and ’tis not my tale to share.”
“He will never tell me of it.”
“Perhaps not.”
“Will you?”
Edana shrugged.
Impatience lit Jacqueline’s features. “What harm is there in sharing a tale? You are the most reticent lot I have ever known!” she declared and Edana could not help but smile. The maid took her expression as encouragement, as was clear from her next words. “Will you answer me one thing, if naught else?”
“Perhaps one thing,” she agreed slowly.
“How has he changed? What was Angus like before?”
Edana dropped her gaze to the pot, stirring it in silence. Indeed, she had to sift through her thoughts and impressions to find the kernel of his change.
“In the years since I have seen him, he has come to know wickedness,” she finally said, her voice low. “And, as wickedness so often does, it has left its stain upon him.”
A shiver slid visibly through the younger woman and Edana was certain her curiosity was sated.
Jacqueline sat on the floor of the hut, clad in no more than her chemise as her kirtle dried. She watched Edana with bright eyes pick at this herb and another. “What are you doing?”
“Are you always so intent to know what others do not tell you?”
The maiden laughed lightly, the sparkle in her eyes most fetching. “Aye. Curiosity is said to be my curse.”
Edana snorted. “I’ll make something to fill your belly. Are you not hungered?”
“Aye!”
Edana poured the heated water over the lot, sniffing as the herbs released their potency. She stirred, then added a measure of honey, before handing it to Jacqueline. “Too sweet?”
“Nay, ’tis perfect.”
“Good, then drink it down.”
Jacqueline sipped, her gaze watchful. The men’s’ voices carried to them intermittently, though no one came to the door. Edana settled onto her stool and braced her hands atop her cane.
“And? What do you know of him?” Jacqueline asked pertly.
“Naught that is yours to hear. At least not afore you share your own tale.” Edana shook a finger at the lass. “You have a debt to pay, need I remind you?”
Jacqueline smiled. “Aye, I know it well. This morn, I was en route to a convent...”
There was marvel in her tone at the change of her situation. Edana heard much that was said and just as much unsaid, and was as intrigued by the omissions as the facts included. The ma
iden had not been in her vision, though ’twas clear she played a key role in whatever Angus had begun.
This Jacqueline was young and sweet and innocent of much of the world, yet she saw much more than even she knew she did. She had a sharp tongue on occasion, and her commentary could make an old woman smile -- though Edana imagined that those at the convent she was destined to join would not be so amused by such cheek.
’Twas true that she was beauteous, but her gaze was sharp with intellect. Edana came quickly to see the wits first and the beauty second. She wondered how many others did the same.
As she recounted the tale of her abduction, Jacqueline’s eyelids drooped. She valiantly forced them open time and again, clearly not one to surrender without a fight. Edana knew ’twould not be long before she guessed the truth.
When her head nodded once more, and she jerked upright yet again, Jacqueline hefted the cup she had emptied in Edana’s direction. “’Twas a potion, was it not?” Even her voice was thick with grogginess.
Edana smiled. “Aye.”
“You tricked me!”
“Nay. Sleep is the best aid for a wound.” She watched the maiden’s eyes close once again. Each time they were slower to open, Jacqueline’s responses dulling with the power of the brew. “Especially for one devoid of stalwart Celt blood.”
Jacqueline’s eyes snapped open, though she smiled when she spoke with mock indignation. “The blood of my forebears is stalwart! My mother is wrought of steel and silk, so my step-father oft says...”
A rap at the door stopped her tirade and she hiccupped sleepily even as her eyes widened. Edana opened the door to find Angus there, waiting expectantly though he could have forced his way within.
“She cannot be trusted,” he said simply. “I will sleep within, while Rodney sleeps without.”
“She is but a mere maiden,” Edana retorted.
“And crafty despite all of that.” He fixed a gaze upon Jacqueline, who visibly quaked. Indeed she tried to rise, as though she would flee him, but her body betrayed her and she slumped against the wall of the hut.
“What have you done to so frighten her?” Edana demanded.
Angus scowled. “She had but to look upon me.”
The older woman felt her eyes narrow as she considered him, and Jacqueline’s statement that he was a handsome man. She suspected that he, not atypical of a man, had named the cause of her distress wrongly and even—yet more typical of a man—might not realize what he had done to so upset Jacqueline.
“She has taken a sleeping draught and will not awaken again this night. There is no need for you to remain,” Edana hissed, but Angus was not persuaded.
He shook his head. “Already she has tricked me once. ’Twill not happen again, not when the stakes are so high.” He crossed the room and squatted down beside her. “Come, my beauty, on this night, we slumber together.”
This appeared to be Jacqueline’s worst nightmare made flesh, for she could not have been more distraught. She cried out, tried to flee, but only crumpled in her fear of him.
And ’twas Edana’s own fault that the lass was trapped, for ’twas her potion that took away her ability to flee. The old woman stepped forward to intervene but there was an unexpected tenderness in Angus’ expression that halted her.
Indeed, he lifted the unconscious Jacqueline gently and wrapped her within his cloak, then laid her upon the pallet Edana had offered. He drew his blade and laid it beside the maiden, then sat so that the blade was between them and folded his arms across his chest. He fixed her with a challenging stare.
This was the boy she remembered!
“You care for her welfare,” she charged softly, much reassured.
“Her welfare is the key to winning my objective,” he said crisply. “She means no more to me than that.”
She would have wagered that ’twas a lie, but Angus gave her no chance to question him. His eye gleamed as he steadily met the gaze of the older woman. “Make no mistake, Edana. I have learned that a man must hold fast to his goals if he means to succeed.”
“What is your goal?”
He did not answer her, but laid down beside Jacqueline, still fully garbed. “I would ask you to remain within the hut this night,” he said quietly. “There should be witness that I have done her no injury.”
“She fears you.”
“All women fear me.” There was bitterness in his words, though she had no chance to ask another question. Angus closed his eyes, effectively ending their discourse, and she knew he would ignore any word she uttered.
But Edana watched the pair for a long time, long after the breath fell slowly from them both. Indeed, the maiden might have need of some understanding of this knight after all. He had changed, but not so much as the old woman had first feared.
* * *
Jacqueline awakened slowly, her thoughts uncommonly clouded and her tongue thick. She winced at the pounding behind her temples, then her eyes flew open in sudden recollection of Edana’s brew. Had the old woman had deceived her, so that Angus might have his will when she was powerless to fight?
Fearful of what she might find, she ran her hands down her body. Her chemise was perfectly dry and perfectly in place. There was naught damp between her thighs.
The roof of the hut was painted with the pearly light of the dawn and echoed with the gentle patter of rain. Jacqueline was warmer than she had expected to be, though that might have been a lingering effect of the herbs.
A man snored, but at a distance, and she guessed that Rodney slept outside with the steeds. Edana snored more softly and at closer range. She turned to seek out the older woman and found her vision completely blocked.
Aye, Jacqueline herself lay against the back wall of the hut, a certain knight lying full length beside her. He was a considerable obstacle, responsible for a good part of the heat she felt.
He had not forced himself upon her. She thought “not yet” again, then wondered whether he even had any intent to take her. What did he desire? What kind of man was he? She swallowed and studied him carefully through her lashes, seeking answers in his features.
His patched eye was the one closest to her, so she could not discern whether he was awake or not. He lay on his back, so still that she was not entirely certain that he even breathed. His hair fell back in dark waves from his tanned face, and even in profile, he looked uncompromising and harsh.
Aye, his lips were set in a resolute line even now. He wore his tabard and chausses and boots, the toes of those black leather boots far beyond her own toes. His belt was fastened loosely about his waist. His hands were folded together on his chest, like a man laid out for a funeral. His scabbard lay on the floor beyond him, evidently empty.
She looked for his sword and found it between them, the hilt at his hip, the tip of the weighty blade between their shoulders. The steel gleamed coldly upon cloth, and Jacqueline realized belatedly that she was also warm because the knight had cast his red cloak over her. She could smell his flesh in the wool hood nestled around her neck, the unexpected familiarity making her yet warmer again.
She was tucked within the circle of the cloak, enfolded within it with his weight and his blade securing the ends. ’Twas as though he meant to secure her from assault, even while he slept, and Jacqueline wondered at the import of this.
Did he only mean to save her for himself?
Or did he not mean to rape her at all?
She stared at the blade between them, recalling too well a tale of Duncan’s in which a man of honor laid his blade between himself and a chaste maiden to ensure her purity was whole in the morn. In the tale, ‘’twas a signal of the man’s chivalrous intent, and Jacqueline faced with this sign, could find no other explanation for it.
She did not intend to wait until Angus awakened to ask him the truth of it. She eased away from him until her back collided with the wall. He made no sign of awareness, though she heartily disliked that she could not see his good eye. Slowly, holding her breath, she began t
o sit up, certain he would hear the clamor of her heart, and ease out of the cocoon of wool.
He did not move.
Jacqueline sat up all the way, carefully settling the cloak between them so that its weight did not fall upon him and awaken him. ’Twas wrought of good heavy cloth and indeed, she shivered slightly at the chill in the morning air when she was without it. Protected by the folds of the cloak, she lifted her chemise and peeked beneath herself.
No blood.
Edana muttered to herself, then snored once more. Still Angus did not move. Jacqueline could see all of his face now, but his other eye was closed. Oddly, he no longer gave her the impression of a cadaver. Nay, Jacqueline had the sense of a man very much alive, a dangerous and unpredictable man, a warrior who had learned the merit of feigning what he did not feel. She did not doubt that ’twas useful to be so still as this, particularly when hunted by a bloodthirsty foe.
One who might well claim an eye. She watched him suspiciously for a long time, certain he must move eventually and betray that he was indeed awake.
But he did not and she dared to be encouraged. Aye, the longer she hesitated, the more likely ’twas that he would awaken.
Jacqueline took a steadying breath, then pulled her knees beneath her slowly and silently. She braced a hand upon the floor behind her and coiled to spring over his legs.
“I would not attempt that, in your place,” Angus murmured, his words low and surprisingly lazy.
Jacqueline gasped.
Now his gaze was fixed upon her, though still he had not moved. His eye was the deepest hue of brown that ever she had seen. It was so dark as to be wrought of shadows and secrets, the pupil indistinguishable from the rest, the effect that of a gaze of great intensity. She felt pinned in place, forced by his gaze and his will alone to be still.
But Jacqueline would allow no man such easy power over her.
She lifted her chin bravely. “I have to piss.”
“Then use the bucket at your feet or wait.” He made no move to rise and accompany her, nor indeed to stop her.
But one glance at the dirty bucket was enough. “I will wait.”
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