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Carroll, Laurie - War Of Hearts.txt

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by War Of Hearts. txt (lit)


  Rebecca’s expression told Alicen the older woman

  knew an incomplete account when she heard it. But the

  lady asked no questions.

  “You both are near to collapse,” she stated kindly.

  “We’ll converse more once you’ve rested.”

  “I must speak to the earl of the mercenary who

  abducted us,” Jeremy stated with sudden intensity. He

  had regained his seat as the women talked. “I believe he

  raids in Cumbria to expand Harold of Stanhope’s ill-gotten

  holdings.”

  Rebecca’s expression turned grim. “Your belief is

  correct. My husband rode to Penrith three days ago to

  discuss that very problem with Brougham’s castellan. He’s

  due back at eventide.” When Jeremy sighed in

  disappointment, she added, “If I may be frank, neither of

  you is fit to abandon my hospitality too soon. You must

  rest and regain strength before pursuing a madman.”

  Jeremy had straightened in his seat as Rebecca spoke.

  “I fear the jackal will escape me if I lie idle too long. If he

  is not quickly checked, much of the country will bleed.”

  The lady gave a brief nod. “Yet, you can do naught

  until my husband returns. Therefore, it pleases me to

  offer you the comforts of my home. When you finish your

  meal, John will show you to the baths, where you may

  cleanse away the remains of your privations.”

  “Baths?” Alicen inquired.

  Rebecca nodded. “The second Earl of Cumbria built

  this castle five generations ago. He patterned its amenities

  after Henry the Third’s palace at Westminster. Hence,

  the bath room has hot and cold running water. I’m certain

  you’ll find it much to your liking.”

  “You’re too kind, Lady Rebecca,” Alicen remarked as

  she studied the older woman. The latter exuded amiable

  gentility, and Alicen found herself warming to her. “I’d

  very much like to speak to your physician after I’ve bathed,

  if that is possible.”

  “There’ll be time enough for such at the evening meal,”

  Rebecca responded. “You should slumber rather than

  tire yourself with the business of healing.”

  Though the statement was couched as a suggestion,

  Alicen detected the command of a concerned parent in it.

  She was for bed, regardless of whether or not she wished

  it.

  “I for one could use the rest,” Jeremy interjected. He

  smiled wryly. “Since I got naught of it last eventide.”

  Alicen shot him look. “If you seek to stir my guilt for

  sleeping on our ride, save your breath. As I recall, ’twas

  at your insistence.”

  Turning a roguish smile toward Lady Rebecca, Jeremy

  said drolly, “What man wouldn’t leap at the chance to

  hold a slumbering woman in his arms?”

  Heat scorched Alicen’s cheeks, and she gripped her

  knife and fork so tightly her knuckles whitened. Fleetingly,

  she considered using the utensils as weapons.

  “You are the most despicable—“ With supreme effort,

  she choked back the rest of the malediction.

  Jeremy raised his hands in a gesture of capitulation.

  “Truce, woman, truce! I merely intended to point out that

  some of us gained more sleep last night than others.”

  Alicen drew breath to chide Jeremy, but the sight of

  Lady Rebecca’s amusement effectively stifled any retort.

  Alicen was a guest at Kirkoswald, after all, and had no

  right to behave like a vengeful harpy. ’Twould be a poor

  way to show gratitude. As for Sir Jeremy Blaine, she’d

  have revenge for his ill-conceived jest at some other time.

  Swallowing her ire, she smote Jeremy with a look that

  would have devastated a less confident man. He repaid

  her glare with a wink, then returned to eating while she

  pondered her wish to employ her platter to the side of his

  head. Mayhap that would put the jackal in a more sober

  mood!

  The meal ended quietly, although the atmosphere was

  charged. The steward, upon Rebecca’s summons,

  returned to escort her guests to their baths.

  The large, airy chamber was on the same level as the

  earl’s apartments. It boasted two high, arched windows

  with wooden shutters that could be closed to keep out

  drafts. Since the day was sunny, they were open to allow

  sunlight to warm the room. Four wooden tubs sat in a

  row in the center of the floor. Hot water for the baths was

  supplied by tanks filled from pots heated in a furnace

  built specially for that purpose. John motioned Jeremy

  toward the first tub and Alicen toward the second.

  “Charlotte and Agatha will see to your needs,” the

  portly steward remarked, indicating with a nod of his head

  the two servants who stood next to the respective tubs.

  Alicen froze, mortified at the prospect of disrobing in

  front of two complete strangers and Jeremy Blaine. She

  felt the heat stealing back into her cheeks and knew she

  had to leave the chamber immediately or flatly refuse to

  bathe.

  Charlotte saved her from retreating. The buxom

  servant moved to the far wall beneath the windows to

  draw a heavy damask curtain along a rod positioned above

  and between the two tubs. This effectively partitioned the

  chamber into two bathing areas.

  Alicen barely had time to breathe her relief before

  Agatha was removing the soiled, tattered hose, tunic and

  shirt Alicen had worn constantly for close to a week. The

  matronly attendant placed them on a low bench, then

  turned to her charge.

  “I’ll have these cleaned and mended, my lady,” she

  said kindly as she helped her step into the brimming

  tub.

  “They’re nearly beyond repair, I fear,” Alicen replied

  ruefully before sinking to her chin in the hot water.

  “‘Twill be no trouble,” Agatha assured her, patting

  Alicen’s arm. “Now ye just rest yerself and let ol’ Aggie

  see to ye.”

  “Thank you.” She closed her eyes, having all she could

  do not to groan in pleasure as more water poured over

  her head. When strong fingers began to wash her hair,

  she did moan softly. She’d never been so pampered. Giving

  over to the maid’s kind ministrations, she soon found

  herself on the edge of sleep.

  A very feminine giggle from Jeremy’s side of the

  curtain snapped Alicen’s eyes open. Her ears attuned to

  his deep voice and the maid’s answering titters, though

  they spoke too low to distinguish words. The heat in

  Alicen’s cheeks could not be blamed on the bath water.

  She pictured the maid bathing the man who, mere hours

  before, had held Alicen in his arms. Her mouth went dry.

  Having seen most of his body, she knew the temptation

  to touch him. Charlotte was expected to touch the very

  flesh that so unnerved Alicen.

  She envied the servant her opportunity.

  Chastising herself for such wanton thoughts, she tried

  to attend to Agatha’s efforts. But her mind kept picturing
>
  the activities on the other side of the curtain, and she

  found even Agatha’s personal attentions less than

  diverting.

  For his part, Jeremy enjoyed Charlotte’s care, but

  did not intend to partake of the services she offered

  beyond his bath. With teasing hands she’d removed the

  bandages from his aching ribs, stroking his body,

  wordlessly admiring his physique. Her next touch was

  blatantly to the issue. Pushing her firmly away, he shook

  his head and stepped into the tub.

  The heat of the water combined with Charlotte’s now

  less than enthusiastic massage, eased his knotted

  muscles and lessened his aches. He knew his ribs

  required rebinding, but decided against asking Alicen to

  do it. He’d taxed her sorely earlier and thought it unwise

  to request favors after enjoying a jest at her expense.

  Remembering her expression when he’d remarked on

  holding her, he smiled. Then he chuckled.

  The woman was a vision to savor with her hackles

  up. The emerald fire that leaped into her eyes made risking

  her fury a worthwhile challenge. And Jeremy never ran

  from a challenge. He couldn’t explain why he’d made such

  a bold insinuation to Lady Rebecca, yet he didn’t regret

  it. After all, Alicen had spent the night in his arms. That

  unique circumstances had led her to it was a minor point.

  And holding her had brought him pleasure.

  The sounds of her bath progressing only a few feet

  away fired his thoughts. He imagined her naked, her body

  caressed by heated water. And then by his own heated

  hands. This vision enticed him, making him shift to ease

  an increasing discomfort. The water felt far hotter than it

  had moments before. His tight throat forced him to

  swallow several times. Blessedly, this calmed him

  somewhat.

  But his disquieting thoughts took the smile from his

  mouth.

  Careful, lad, he warned himself. You think to tread on

  territory best left unexplored. Far better to dally with this

  servant and forget Alicen. William will wed her to a

  steward.

  There could be no gain in seeking pleasure with Alicen

  Kent. He must remain her nemesis, most definitely not

  her lover.

  His jaw set. Recent events had unbalanced him. He

  had to regain his feet, stop Kenrick and see William safely

  to York. Vital tasks. Nothing—no one—could interfere with

  those duties. Not even the woman who had bedeviled him

  for weeks, so much so he wondered how his life would

  progress when he left her behind.

  Fifteen

  They slept the afternoon away, she in an airy chamber

  near Lady Rebecca’s apartments, he in the guardhouse.

  When Alicen awoke near dusk, she found Agatha bustling

  about the chamber, lighting candles and laying out

  garments on the bed.

  “Yer clothes will be ready when ye depart, my lady,”

  the matronly servant stated. “Lady Rebecca said to give

  ye these for while ye remain.”

  Alicen stared, momentarily stunned, at the lovely

  garments Agatha had brought.

  “Surely the lady has no wish for me to wear these,”

  she gasped, consternation bringing her brows together.

  “They are far too fine.”

  “Nay, Mistress, the lady chose these herself. They’re

  her daughter’s things. Yer meant to wear them.”

  Without another word, Agatha set about dressing

  Alicen in a delicate linen chemise. She then slipped a

  long-sleeved tunic of green sendal over Alicen’s head,

  fastening it at the neck with a bronze brooch. A sleeveless

  surcoat of light yellow topped the tunic, and a leather

  belt with a bronze wolf’s head buckle circled Alicen’s waist

  and drew the garments close. Short hose, held by garters

  below her knees, and house slippers completed the outfit.

  “Ye look beautiful, my lady,” Agatha breathed. “I’ll

  dress yer hair now, if ye’d like.”

  “Please, just leave it,” Alicen begged, unaccustomed

  to such a fuss over appearances. “I’d prefer you to simply

  tie it back.”

  “As ye wish, Mistress.” The servant pursed generous

  lips, then added, “But if I meself were blessed with such

  rich chestnut tresses, I’d style them to attract a handsome

  swain.”

  Alicen swallowed. “A simple style will do.”

  Obedient, the chambermaid brushed Alicen’s hair

  until it shone, then tied it back with a braided band. Giving

  a final pat, she stepped back to view the effect and nodded.

  “Lovely.”

  “Thank you,” Alicen said with heartfelt sincerity. “I’ve

  never enjoyed such care.”

  “’Tis an honor to serve ye, my lady. Of a certain ye’ll

  turn yer gallant knight’s head.”

  The servant’s comment puzzled Alicen. Then

  realization dawned, and her heart sank. Jeremy! He’d be

  joining her at supper and would likely laugh at her

  pretentious manner of dress. After all, she was but a

  simple country healer. He’d likely delight in watching her

  play the fool. Determined not to provide him such

  entertainment, she set her features and prepared to ignore

  all his caustic barbs.

  She need not have bothered.

  Silence fell as she entered the hall. It seemed every

  man in the room, from lordly retainers to young pages,

  stared at her, and she soon found herself surrounded by

  admirers. Unused to such attention, Alicen struggled to

  keep her wits and not bolt in panic. There was no time to

  worry about Jeremy’s reaction to her.

  Her appearance had stunned that particular knight

  to utter speechlessness. In the midst of an intense

  discussion with the just-returned Earl of Cumbria,

  Jeremy stuttered to silence, staring toward the hall’s main

  entrance.

  “Your lady is a lovely woman,” Edward remarked.

  Jeremy’s gaze snapped back to his host. “She is not

  my lady, Your Grace.” He noted how Alicen’s entrance

  had stirred the men, but didn’t look at her again. “She

  treated William’s wounds and has harbored him since

  his injury.”

  “Ah.” Edward’s smile was sly. “A business alliance.”

  Jeremy shrugged. “Naught else, my lord. Now, as to

  the plans for pursuing Kenrick...”

  ***

  The hall was nearly empty when Edward and Jeremy

  finished their stratagems. Satisfied, he bid the old man

  good night and made for his bed in the guard room. He

  halted when Alicen rose from her seat in a window

  embrasure and stepped down to him.

  “You’ve decided upon a course?” she asked promptly.

  It was impossible not to enjoy seeing her in courtly

  attire. She wore such fashion well. Forcing down an

  appreciative smile, he answered, “Aye, we ride on the

  morrow.”

  “Then best we both retire.” She moved past him toward

  the gallery. “The chase will be hard. Most likely this will

  be th
e last good rest we’ll enjoy in many days.”

  Her use of “we” did not escape him, but he had no

  intention of allowing her to accompany him. It was too

  dangerous.

  “You’re staying here.”

  At this, she spun to face him, eyes narrowed. “Nay, I

  ride with you. Someone may need me.”

  Her words made his muscles go rigid, as if to resist a

  blow. “You’ll only slow us down,” he ground out. “You’re

  not coming.”

  Alicen’s flush warned of a temper about to explode.

  “And your injuries will pose no hindrance? You should

  remain behind, since you’re too reckless to properly care

  for yourself.”

  “I’ll not allow my injuries to hinder me,” he snapped.

  “Just as I’ll not allow you to hinder me.”

  “I ride as well as any man! I’ll no more slow the pursuit

  than you will. And you’ll need a physician if there’s

  fighting.”

  “Edward’s man accompanies us.”

  Alicen’s chin tilted up. “I’ll not stay behind, no matter

  that you wish it so. You cannot detain me here.”

  “Aye, I can,” he growled, determined to have the final

  word. He stepped closer. “There’ll be danger, and I’ll not

  risk men to put your safety ahead of their own.”

  She went completely still, then retorted in a quiet voice

  tempered with steel, “My will is my own, and that’s to my

  liking. I go where I choose.”

  She looked as though she were ready to strike

  something, and Jeremy wisely chose not to test her anger.

  He took a slow breath to temper his vexation. “Woman,

  you’re a sore trial for me.”

  “A trial of your own making, sir. By your choice you

  escort me. Yet you’ve no claim upon me, none of any

  kind.”

  He laughed in pure exasperation. “And does Orrick

  still lay claim to your attentions?”

  All the color drained from Alicen’s face.

  “I loved him,” she whispered. “Before the horrors of

  battle stole his mind, and he returned to me a child. I

  lied to protect him from you.” Lowering her gaze, she

  asked, “Will you use my deception to leave me here on

  the morrow?”

  “Most likely.”

  His deliberate statement got the reaction he sought.

  Building anger replaced her despair. Again, their gazes

  locked. They stood toe to toe, no quarter given. She

 

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