Carroll, Laurie - War Of Hearts.txt
Page 11
though you’d have it so. I protect William’s subjects. Do I
spill blood in the process—offensive to you or no—’tis oft
expedient.”
“Is there pleasure in feeling a man’s life drain away
upon your sword?” she sneered.
“I do not kill men for sport!” Jeremy clenched his reins,
body rigid. “I kill only to protect my duke, my soldiers, or
myself. Believe me or no, I hate senseless slaughter.”
Alicen recalled William’s saying much the same of
the captain.
“Tell me, then,” she asked archly, “if not battle and
mayhem, what pleases you? You distrust me merely
because of my sex. Follow like my shadow, with as little
expression as that apparition, and treat me harshly. Does
harrying innocent women amuse you?”
Snarling, he raised his fist, then dropped it
immediately back to his side. “Were you a man, by God,
I’d have satisfaction for your insults!”
Alicen had goaded the wolf into baring his teeth. ’Twas
time to retreat. But not without one last sally. Staring at
his fist, she tilted a mocking brow, then half smiled. “I’m
glad you still discern between those to kill and those to
protect.” Her gaze flicked to his furious eyes. “I’ve
wondered whether your hatred of women clouded your
soldier’s honor.”
“I’ve rarely harmed a woman,” he spat. “Though they
oft manage to harm me.”
At the end of his stamina, he wanted to howl with
rage. But just as he contemplated giving in to that wish,
a sudden change in Alicen’s expression startled his fury
away. From antagonism her look melted to a distant,
musing gaze, as if she heard far off church bells. The hair
on the nape of his neck rose. For that moment, he ceased
to exist in her world.
For that moment, he didn’t want to.
She shook her head as if to clear it, then turned
pensive eyes to him. “I must return to Sherford.” She
reined Hercules around.
He rode up beside her. “Why?”
“Someone requires my aid,” she said quietly.
“You’ve the power of divination?” he asked half-
mockingly, his tone masking sudden wariness. He could
not completely dismiss the strange experiences he’d had
since his arrival at Landeyda. But he would try. “Mayhap
you’re a sorceress who conjured Landeyda’s benevolent
spirit.”
Alicen paled visibly and swallowed hard. “Ridiculous
fancy. I’ve oft sensed when others needed me. ’Tis a skill
I was born with, not one acquired in unholy ritual.” She
swallowed again before saying, “Witchcraft is easily
misunderstood and thus dangerous to speak of even in
jest, Captain.”
His mouth twisted into a wry grin. “So, the dauntless
healer fears such talk? I scarce can believe it.”
“I’ve no wish to be suspected of evil,” she replied
somberly. “Thus, I must ask you to cease this discussion.”
“I’ll give your request all the gravity it deserves.” He
smiled slyly. “After you’ve appeased my curiosity.”
A chill slid up Alicen’s spine. “Regarding what?”
“How you came to the healing craft. ’Tis more than
passing strange for a woman to practice medicine.”
“Someone had to treat the sick and wounded while
the men were off killing for their king,” she bit out between
her teeth.
“You’ve not answered my question.”
The chill again. Alicen felt like a hare in a huntsman’s
trap. She could neither flee nor hide from this man.
Mayhap the truth would appease him.
“I learned from my mother.”
Jeremy’s look was openly amazed. “Who taught her?”
“Her mother,” Alicen said in a nearly inaudible voice.
“Three generations of women healers in one family?
Not all the men hereabouts were off to war. Yet no man of
your relation was a physician?”
“Nay.” She rushed on. “Less than four generations
ago plague claimed half the populace. War with France
went on over fourscore years. Thousands died. But my
great-grandam survived to pass her knowledge of healing
to my grandam. And she to my mother.”
“Does the local priest approve of your occupation?”
Alicen fought down clawing panic. “He believes illness
is the will of God. I, for one, do not agree.”
“And so you seek to heal?” At her curt nod, he asked,
“But through divination and herbs? Aren’t those the ways
of—”
“We must hurry!”
Without so much as a glance at her escort, Alicen
kicked Hercules into a canter and raced for Sherford,
leaving Jeremy’s question unasked. He could only follow
and await a better opportunity to question her further.
But question her he would.
Seven
The moment Alicen entered town, a heavy woman of
untold age accosted her, effectively postponing Jeremy’s
interrogation.
“Mistress Kent,” she puffed, winded from haste,
“praise Jesu you’ve returned! My Jack hurt himself and
can’t rise from bed.”
Jeremy repressed his surprise, yet marveled at
Alicen’s intuition even as he followed the two women to a
large house on the southerly street.
An hour later, once again on their way to Landeyda,
Jeremy contemplated the discovery he’d made about
Alicen. His actions had mortified her. How else to explain
her rush to finish in Sherford and be gone for home? Or
her choice of a shortcut?
Had Jeremy known such bawdy deeds would set her
off center, he’d have tried them earlier. Alicen’s disquiet
fascinated him. She wasn’t so aloof when flustered and
out of her element, and he liked that.
He had instantly known the source of the patient’s
pain, though the man himself seemed ignorant of the
cause. The soldier saw the lustful looks the serving wench
had sent the invalid’s way and understood. Remembering
the scene, he chuckled.
The wife gave no sign she realized her husband’s
perfidy, but crimson stained Alicen’s cheeks. After treating
his malady, she had quickly collected her fee and then
bolted from the house to leap astride Hercules, an amused
Jeremy in pursuit.
She hadn’t said a word to him since before their return
to Sherford.
They were now well into the woods. Branches
interlaced high above them, forming a leafy vaulted
ceiling. With autumn’s approach, the leaves would soon
turn colors and carpet the ground, but for now they
dressed the trees in verdant shades.
The path was barely wide enough for two to ride
abreast, but Jeremy deliberately kept Charon beside
Hercules. Alicen’s discomfort almost made him laugh
outright. She shot him an exasperated glance, but the
look only caused his smile to broaden. This was the most
he’d enjoyed Alicen Kent’s company since first they’d met
.
“Will the miller’s back heal quickly?” he asked
innocently.
She stared warily at him before answering, “If he
doesn’t o’ertax himself, he’ll be about in a few days.”
“So, he’ll ride again soon.” Looking over in time to see
her gulp, Jeremy forced back a guffaw. “’Tis certain the
serving wench will appreciate his quick recovery.”
At that, Alicen turned so quickly toward him Hercules
danced sideways a few steps. “Lecher! You approve the
man’s adultery!”
“I said naught of approval,” Jeremy stated, grinning.
“I merely hinted the wench would laud your healing
talents.”
“I did not tend him to aid his lewdness. His wife asked
me to help him.”
“Ah, she excuses her husband’s dalliances.”
“No woman wishes a faithless man. ’Tis a soldier’s
notion that his woman be true while he pursues infidelity.”
Jeremy’s humor vanished instantly. “I honored my
marriage vows. My lady broke faith. And robbed me of
both my child and herself.” He drew several breaths before
adding, “At least she did not cuckold me, as Mother and
my sister by marriage did their husbands.”
“Mayhap she had no wish to raise your child alone.”
Alicen saw him wince and, noting deep anguish in his
eyes, and switched tacks. “When you are about the duke’s
business, what of your woman at Tynan? Who protects
her? Who guarded your mother and your brother’s wife
whilst their men fought abroad?”
“They found their own comforts,” Jeremy responded
in a low, resentful tone. “And destroyed two honorable
men.”
“But what of your lady?” Alicen persisted, unable to
fathom why his answer was important to her. “How does
she find comfort with you long away?”
Blue eyes turned cold. “I’ve pledged faith to none since
Estelle. She taught me that a lady wins a man’s heart,
then uses it as a bauble. No woman will ever again do
such to me.”
“Is that why you are a tyrant?”
“Tyrant?” He laughed mirthlessly. “When Father
discovered Mother’s indiscretion, he hanged the stable
master and beat her. That ended her infidelity. For a time.
My eldest brother beats his wife for every imagined
treachery. She’s never broken faith with him.”
Alicen couldn’t hide her appalled expression.
“Edward treated his wife with all kindness,” Jeremy
said matter-of-factly. “She betrayed him with his closest
friend.”
He didn’t add that his mother couldn’t leave her bed
for a fortnight after the beating. Or that as a seven-year-
old boy, he’d despised his father for hurting her. Later, at
fourteen, he hated Manfred’s turning Agnes into a terrified
wraith. And he mourned for Edward, whose kindness had
been wretchedly misused.
Let Alicen think what she would. Just as Estelle before
her, she could not accept a soldier. He was better off
without such women in his life.
This volley between them had turned too painful, and
he liked not the feelings it brought him. Thus he sought
to regain the upper hand in their latest argument.
“The duke told me your father fought at Agincourt.”
Alicen’s expression became guarded. “Aye, he was in
the King’s service for a goodly number of years.”
“And your mother was Irish?”
Her affirmation came more warily this time.
At her hesitation, he pressed his advantage. “The
Celt’s Druid priestesses were herb-healers, were they
not?” His hard look challenged her to deny his statement.
“Generations of my foremothers were healers,” she
answered carefully, growing panic evident behind her
steady reply. “They conveyed knowledge from mother to
daughter. Naught is amiss in that.”
“Did I suggest such a thing?” His smile taunted.
She faced him squarely. “Nay, Captain Blaine, yet you
seem convinced my skills are evil. Father thought to blend
old ways with new and bought medical texts on a
diplomatic mission to Italy. Mother also taught me those
methods.”
“So you admit the old teachings are Druidic?”
Jeremy’s intense stare dispelled his tone’s indifference.
“I admit Mother was the finest healer in the north,
and that I’m honor bound to follow her path as best I
can. If such is sinister, then I am condemned already in
your eyes.”
Her voice had grown steadily more quiet, her manner
more guarded, and Jeremy knew he’d completely
unnerved her. Oddly enough, that angered him. He’d
expected a show of her fine temper, yet he’d only
succeeded in cowing her. He wanted the snarling vixen
with the flashing eyes. He wanted a fight.
“Condemned but not punished,” he replied firmly.
He regretted his cruel jest the moment he spoke.
Alicen’s face drained of color, and her eyes turned to huge
green pools. Such naked vulnerability tore at his
conscience.
Be damned, why doesn’t she defend herself?
“Alicen—” He reached for Hercules’ reins.
“Stay away!” Before Jeremy could react, she had urged
her gelding into a headlong run down the forest lane.
“Alicen, wait!” He held Charon to a slow trot, hoping
she would realize he didn’t pursue her and would thus
stop running.
Fleeing in complete terror, she never looked back.
She was still within sight but pulling steadily away
when a fox darted from cover directly in front of Hercules.
As panicked as his mistress, the gelding shied.
“No!” Jeremy watched helplessly while Alicen
catapulted over her mount’s head. She somersaulted in
midair then landed in a crumpled heap at the side of the
road.
Within moments he was kneeling beside her still form,
his heart lurching.
“Alicen? Can you hear me, lass?” His dry voice
cracked.
He cautiously rolled her to her back. A low moan
assured him she yet lived, but he feared serious injury.
Gently running his hands along her limbs, he felt no
broken bones and thanked God she had landed on ground
softened by recent rains.
He slipped his arm under her shoulders to lift her,
then pulled back the hood confining her chestnut hair. A
lump twice the size of his thumb lay well behind her right
ear, but he was heartened to see that his fingers bore
none of her blood. He barely noted his shaking hands as
he gathered her close then slid his legs beneath her for
support. She groaned again, softly.
“Jesu, lass,” he said, voice husky with pain. “I never
meant for this to happen.” He traced her lips with a
trembling finger. There was no reaction. “Don’t die.
Please.”
Lord, have I destroyed the finest healer I’ve ever
known?
Guilt burned inside,
and he cursed himself and his
family. As a man, he hated Estelle, his mother and his
sister-in-law for their perfidy. But he hated his father’s
and brother’s brutal reprisals as well. The women in his
life were unscrupulous, the men unmerciful. But for
Edward, who’d had his heart shredded in return for his
boundless love. He had never recovered from that
betrayal. Jeremy hated Edward’s wife most of all.
And now, his own ruthlessness had injured a woman
whose only crime was being female.
A very fine female, he grudgingly admitted. Lord, what
power did she wield over him? The urge to touch her
silky hair proved strong, coupled with concern he’d missed
an injury. He pushed stray locks from her face and
combed his fingers through the auburn mass, enjoying
the feel as he reassured himself she’d received only the
one blow to her head. She was quite lovely when not vexed
with him. With his thumb he gently removed a smudge
of dirt from her cheek.
She didn’t stir, and her lack of response to his
ministrations troubled him more than he would readily
admit. She was so pale and still, oblivious to her
surroundings. Mayhap she’d not recover. This possibility
made him swallow through his parched throat, and his
lips moved in silent prayer that her stubborn nature would
keep her alive. If she died, what would he do?
A sudden chill wind surrounded him, though nothing
stirred. The hair at his nape rose just as the voice he’d
heard before whispered, “You see an enemy where naught
exists. Ignore this warning at your peril.”
The wind instantly died. The chill in his soul remained.
***
“Mistress Kent? Can you hear me? Awake, lass.”
She recognized the deep, resonant voice. Orrick? No,
not that tone for many years. The concern confused her,
as did the hand tenderly stroking her cheek. Dull pain
throbbed behind her eyes, demanding they remain closed
tight. But the voice’s gentle insistence drew them open.
It shocked her to realize that she lay in Jeremy Blaine’s
lap as his fingers lightly traced the planes of her face. His
blue eyes, indigo in the dim forest, showed unmistakable
concern. This turned to relief when her gaze held his. His
smile dazzled.
“Welcome back, lass.”
Shaky, but inexplicably determined to move away