Carroll, Laurie - War Of Hearts.txt

by War Of Hearts. txt (lit)

  crying Ned. Though too distant to hear, he knew her words

  comforted. The sight riveted him, and when she struggled

  to rise with Ned in her arms, he moved to help her.

  “Let’s get you to bed, lad,” he said, squatting down to

  carefully tousle the boy’s hair.

  Alicen began to protest, but his eyes dared her to

  stop him. She surrendered Ned without a word.

  “My thanks for saving us, sir.” Esteem lit Ned’s gaze.

  “’Twas naught, lad,” Jeremy murmured.

  Alicen flushed, then cursed her sudden stab of envy.

  She could understand Ned’s feelings. Orphaned at eight,

  the boy had soon after come to live with her. He’d no

  father or brothers to emulate, and Orrick’s madness

  repelled him. Jeremy Blaine was, by all accounts, an

  accomplished knight. And not everyone deplored soldiers

  as she did.

  Pushing aside her animosity, she hurried on still-

  unsteady legs to open the cottage door for them. Then

  she moved to pull back a bench from the table and motion

  Jeremy to place Ned on it.

  “You’re injured.” Jeremy noted, looking pointedly at

  her leg.

  She stood tall and avoided favoring the leg. “’Tis

  naught.”

  “You limp for naught?”

  Without reply, she started to turn away, but Jeremy’s

  irritated statement made her glance back at him.

  “My question was civil. I deserve a civil answer.”

  Her instinct was to flee, yet she replied levelly, “I

  scraped my knee just now in the stable.”

  Setting Ned carefully down, Jeremy straightened to

  his full height. “It requires attention. Let me look at it.”

  “I must needs attend to Ned.”

  Jeremy grunted. “After he’s settled, I’ll examine your

  injury.”

  At this bold declaration, she cocked a brow. “You have

  healing skills, Captain?”

  Jeremy clenched his jaw hard. In four strides he had

  reached the infirmary. “I’ll speak to William, then I’ll see

  to you,” he stated. “Though why I’d aid such an obstinate

  shrew bemuses me.” He closed the door firmly behind

  him.

  Alicen stared at that door for several moments. Why

  should her injury concern him? It would not prevent her

  treating William or his men. Though the duke still could

  not travel, he required merely rest and nourishment. Was

  the captain even now disclosing the night’s events? She

  shuddered at the possible consequences of such a report,

  but forced away her fears and concentrated on Ned.

  From a small crock she brought out a brown, thumb-

  sized cake of narcotic made from dried lettuce leaves.

  “Eat this,” she said, handing it to him. “The pain will ease

  presently.”

  While waiting for the drug to take hold, she removed

  Ned’s sleeve, then wrapped him in a warm blanket. Her

  next task was to set his arm.

  “The extract won’t numb this entirely,” she warned

  as she arrayed splints and cloths on the table.

  “It must be set, Alicen,” Ned stated, trust in his dark

  eyes. “I won’t shame you.”

  She smiled at his resolve. “I’ll be quick.” Grasping his

  wrist, she ordered, “Brace yourself with your other arm,

  and don’t resist with this one.” When she felt him relax,

  she gave a swift jerk and straightened the bone.

  The boy’s eyes widened then watered, but he did not

  cry out. Only his tense features betrayed pain. Alicen

  tested the break, splinted the arm, then secured it in a

  sling.

  “You were very brave.” She kissed his temple. “I know

  how much it hurt.”

  “You’d have been brave in my place.” He trembled

  suddenly, whispering, “Why did Orrick attack you?”

  The question brought dreadful images, but she buried

  them.

  “He claimed I’d lied to him. And, in a way, I did.” At

  Ned’s questioning look, she said, “I convinced him to

  stay away but told him nothing of William’s troops.” Her

  pounding head made her pause and rub her temples.

  “He heard I’d fallen ill and thought I’d lied of that, too.”

  “What will he do now?”

  Alicen saw Ned’s fear and desperately wished to

  reassure him. She could not. Up until this eve, she’d never

  imagined Orrick would hurt her. Now madness

  overpowered his prior love. A chill made her shiver.

  “I’m uncertain,” was all she could say.

  Ned squared his thin shoulders and stilled his

  quivering chin. “I’ll protect you, Alicen.”

  Tears abruptly filled her eyes, but she smiled and

  gave him a careful hug. “I know. Now eat. And then to

  bed.”

  Ned had swallowed the last of his porridge when

  Jeremy returned.

  “Time for sleep, lad.” He carried the boy to bed,

  returning quickly to approach Alicen where she stood by

  her medicinals cupboard. “I’ll tend your leg now,

  Mistress.”

  She bristled. “You give me no orders in my home,

  Captain.”

  “When I’m in the right, you must listen.” Before she

  could protest, he had steered her to a seat on the bench.

  “Don’t consider moving even a finger,” he commanded.

  He brought hot water, candles and clean cloths to

  the table. Thus armed, he drew up a stool and sat.

  “Let me see your leg.”

  The husky compassion in his voice struck Alicen like

  a revelation. Ignoring the comfort she found in that tone,

  she shot him a withering look, yet made no move to leave.

  Neither did she show him the injury.

  Sighing, Jeremy grumbled, “Such stubborn pride,

  Mistress. Have you forgotten pride is a sin?”

  “Who would know that better than you?” she retorted.

  To her complete astonishment, he chuckled, seized

  her ankle and carefully bent the leg. With a knife, he

  enlarged the hole in her hose, exposing the gash. Dried

  blood clogged deep furrows in the skin, but no bone or

  tendon showed.

  She ground her teeth and remained silent while he

  gently probed the broken skin in search of embedded

  objects.

  “It appears you’ll live, Mistress,” he stated drolly as

  he daubed away the blood with a damp cloth. He seemed

  to unconsciously knead her cramped calf muscle as he

  worked.

  “How disappointing for you,” she returned through

  her clenched jaw, fighting the languor his ministrations

  brought her.

  A grin too brief to be more than a trick of the light

  softened his hard features. Alicen blinked.

  “I must needs endure, I suppose.” He had everything

  cleaned in short order. “Which ointment do you use?”

  Still bemused, she answered slowly, “In the saffron

  jar.”

  “Don’t flee while I’m gone.” Upon his return, he

  dressed the wound then sat back to survey his handiwork.

  “Laudable for one whose skills lie in inflicting injury, don’t

  you think?”


  His comment goaded, and the fact he’d treated her

  injury as she herself would have chafed. He was the

  picture of considerate kindness, and she disliked seeing

  him as aught but hard.

  “You needn’t reward me for my services, Mistress,”

  he said, abruptly somber. “’Twas little, in return for all

  you’ve done for us.”

  He rose to collect her supplies.

  “Had I known where treating the Duke would lead,”

  Alicen said peevishly, “I’d have slammed the door in your

  face the night you brought him here.”

  “No doubt you would have.” A slight smile tugged at

  Jeremy’s mouth. “Then you’d never have had occasion to

  punish me for being a soldier. Make the best of it.”

  “’Tis certain I will!” Alicen lurched to her feet. “I’ll dance

  with mirth the day you depart and leave me in peace.”

  In her rush to leave, she caught a toe on the bench

  leg and lost her balance. Her stiff knee could not bend to

  catch her and, with a yelp, she pitched headlong.

  Only Jeremy’s quickness prevented her fall. She went

  just so far as his broad chest as he stepped forward,

  grasping her under the arms. Impact robbed Alicen of

  breath and strength.

  “Easy, lass!” Jeremy said, voice husky. “I have you.”

  Reflexively his arms circled her waist, and he gently

  pulled her closer. A flood of possessiveness, the like of

  which he’d never felt, assaulted him. She was in his arms,

  and he wasn’t of a mind to let her go.

  He was mad! She was betrothed, albeit to a man no

  longer capable of wedding her. Defiantly, his embrace

  tightened.

  In the time it took to collect both wits and breath,

  Alicen felt a comforting warmth course through her. With

  a start, she realized it radiated from the hard body pressed

  to hers. Memory returned her to the forest after her fall,

  and Captain Blaine’s comforting embrace. Then, as now,

  this soldier’s body—his scent, his heat—held too much

  allure.

  Shocked at the path her thoughts raced, she pulled

  back. And saw deep turmoil in Jeremy’s eyes. He was

  clearly as stunned by their proximity—and equally as

  unprepared for it—as she.

  He held her gaze for a moment before his eyes

  darkened and he lowered his mouth to hers. The kiss

  began softly—a tentative exploration—but soon deepened,

  became seductively demanding, insistent. His tongue

  traced her lips, then plumbed deeper. Startled at this

  invasion, she tried to push it from her mouth with her

  own. But the sensation of their tongues meeting sent a

  thrill down all her nerve endings, and she gave up the

  effort. Her lips parted further, allowing him better access.

  Her arms slowly encircled his neck.

  Jeremy raised one hand to tangle Alicen’s hair in

  shaking fingers. The other trailed down her back and rose

  again to tease her nape. A groan rumbled from deep in

  his chest.

  She felt more than heard the sound. And though she

  burned at every point their bodies touched, she welcomed

  the fire. Had he not drawn her close, she’d have leaned

  into him herself. She felt safe in his embrace. And more

  alive than ever before.

  All the trembling weakness in her legs moved upward.

  She molded to him, offering her body to be seared by his.

  A soldier had brought about her surrender...A

  soldier...As this thought exploded inside her head, Alicen’s

  mind cleared. On a strangled cry, she tore her mouth

  free from Jeremy’s. A hard push against his chest broke

  his embrace, and she bolted to her chamber.

  Transfixed, he stood slack-jawed. Sweet Jesu! Alicen

  had responded to his kiss, then retreated like an

  outmaneuvered general. What in Christ’s name afflicted

  him, to engage in such folly? And why her heated

  reaction? Could animosity so easily kindle to passion?

  His logical mind found no rationality.

  But his body burned. He closed his eyes and filled

  his lungs with her lingering scent, his tingling fingertips

  recalling her silken hair and heated skin. It seemed he

  stood there an eternity before wrenching his thoughts

  away from Landeyda’s exasperating mistress.

  He never guessed that, once safely inside her room,

  Alicen sank to the floor, head in hands, and wept bitter

  tears.

  ***

  “You oppose this course, Jeremy?” William watched

  closely as Jeremy paced the chamber. “It seems last

  night’s attack only supports my position.”

  Jeremy stopped, gave William a baleful look, then

  resumed pacing. “Beg pardon, my lord, but as it came

  despite our presence, I fear wedding the woman to some

  clerk won’t afford her more protection.”

  “Thus, you choose to ignore my wisdom?”

  “Nay.” Jeremy would die of mortification if the truth

  of yesternight were known.

  He’d not slept, using wakefulness to bank his rage at

  the assault. By her betrothed! He wanted to kill the man.

  And he’d fought to exorcise intimate memories of Alicen’s

  soft lips and firm limbs. Furtively, he raised a hand to his

  brow, finding it cool to his touch.

  “Mayhap I long to return to court and be quit of this

  place and its occupants.” A glance at the duke revealed a

  disbelieving pair of dark eyes trained upon him.

  “Have you taken ill? You’re never on tenterhooks to

  return to Tynan. Not since every woman there—save my

  lady wife—seeks dalliance with you.” William smiled.

  “Campaigns suit you better than court intrigue.”

  “Ere I regain my land, Tynan is my home. And home

  brings welcome respite from battle.” Jeremy hoped his

  words appeased, else William would badger him to say

  why he so wished to leave Landeyda.

  “Should I enlist Mistress Kent to treat your malady?”

  “Nay!” At William’s odd look, Jeremy composed his

  voice but knew his cheeks flamed. “Pardon, my lord. ’Tis

  only that—”

  William sighed. “I know your nature, and I fear my

  injury has been more a trial for you than—”

  Alicen’s entry halted further comment. Jeremy looked

  away, gathering his writing tools.

  “Good morrow, Mistress,” William greeted her warmly,

  but his eyes were on Jeremy. “I’m pleased you’re hale

  despite last night’s attack.”

  Alicen shot Jeremy a wary look. “’Tis what I wish to

  speak to you of,” she responded, voice tense, cheeks

  suddenly burning.

  William frowned. “You’ve not taken ill from the

  ordeal?”

  “Nay, my lord.” She paused, and Jeremy saw her take

  a deep breath. “Please, sir, if I may speak. Don’t use last

  night to force me to wed. As I was unharmed, what

  happened is of little import.”

  “Sweet Jesu, woman,” William cried, “a man attacked

  you and is still at large. I wish you to be safe when we

&nbs
p; depart.”

  Alicen’s tone stiffened. “I’d no need of protection ‘ere

  you arrived. I’ll need none after you go.”

  “You disparage the gravity of this situation,” William

  returned. “As my subject you are under my protection.”

  “But I have no wish for a husband to protect me,”

  Alicen whispered wretchedly. Her head bowed as she

  fought tears.

  Both William and Jeremy studied her closely. At sight

  of her vulnerable, beaten look, Jeremy’s rage over the

  assault returned full force. He knew the pain of a loved

  one’s betrayal. And the cur’s attack had forced William’s

  hand. Mayhap bringing this Orrick to justice would

  change the duke’s mind about a nuptial. He rose hastily.

  “I plan to lead a search party immediately, my lord,”

  he stated. “We’ll catch the knave if he’s in the shire.”

  Alicen winced, her face pale. “Don’t o’erset the recently

  wounded on my account, sir,” she said weakly, trying for

  mockery and failing. “I’m quite certain the man will not

  return.”

  William straightened. “How are you certain? Is he

  known to you?”

  Alicen’s gaze flew to Jeremy’s. Christ be merciful! If

  Blaine tells all, Orrick will die! Striving to quell her alarm,

  she set her jaw and raised her chin a notch.

  “I’ve little recollection of last night,” she stated baldly,

  unblinking. “It ensued so quickly. But intuition tells me

  he’ll not come here again.” Her look defied Jeremy to

  respond.

  Uncomfortable silence lengthened as he stared back

  at her.

  “Then we’ll not squander time in pursuit, but mend

  the rest of the walls...To keep out other intruders,” Jeremy

  stated as he left the room.

  “Sweet Jesu,” Alicen whispered, forgetting William

  reclined close enough to hear her epithet. She wrung her

  hands in her apron.

  “What troubles you, Mistress? Even dismissing last

  night’s attack, you’ve been pensive of late.”

  Relief over Jeremy’s unanticipated aid didn’t stop her

  from saying, “I’ve little more than a fortnight to forestall

  marrying an as yet unknown suitor, my lord. Perhaps

  that colors my mood.”

  William sighed. “I know the danger we have brought

  you. The fear. Though I’ll not regret Jeremy’s bringing

  me here. Had he not done so, I’d now be among my