she made no reply. Tightening his arms around her, he
drew her carefully back against his chest.
The heat of Jeremy’s body seeped into Alicen’s senses,
gradually relaxing her. She believed his vow that he’d
protect her from anything. Even her heart? He could well
defend her body. Could he shelter her from passion as
well? She recalled his distrust of women and let it reinforce
her resistance to him. Until he came to terms with Estelle’s
death, he’d want little to do with any woman. She was
safe—from herself and from him. Her tension steadily
slipped away. Moments later she slept in peace.
Jeremy smiled when Alicen at last slumped back
against him. Her fragile strength, the vulnerability she
masked behind a bold front, amazed him. Protecting this
headstrong woman brought him joy. Would that he could
see to her welfare forever.
Aye, he would see to it. That thought jolted him to his
soul. He had to win her, to have her in his life. William
would agree that wedding her to his best knight would
benefit them all....
But first he had to reclaim his lands. Then convince
her to love a soldier. Both difficult goals, but his courage
didn’t falter. The prize would be having this lady as his
wife.
Lying in the dark forest, he pledged his entire being
to the woman he now held. All he did from that night on
would direct him toward his goal of wedding her and
seeing her happy. God willing, naught would deter his
fulfilling this vow.
Toward dawn, Jeremy slept, feeling a sense of purpose
and hope he’d not felt for many years.
***
“Alicen! Captain Blaine!”
Ned fairly flew from the cottage as the riders
dismounted in Landeyda’s yard. He ran into Alicen’s arms
and held to her with astounding tenacity. When he pulled
away, tears filled his brown eyes.
“We thought you both dead,” he choked out.
Alicen caught him close again. “Nay, lad. Captain
Blaine yet lives to plague me, and I to plague him.”
The target of her dart made no comment. Instead, he
ruffled Ned’s hair before turning to greet the duke, who
walked gingerly toward the prodigals, Michael Taft at his
elbow.
“We’ve been worried near to death.” William gripped
Jeremy’s hand. “Old Rhea apprised us of your
disappearance. She’s been here since.” He indicated the
midwife, who even then embraced Alicen. “What
happened?”
“The tale will be long in the telling, my lord,” Jeremy
replied, smiling his pleasure at William’s improved
condition. “Shall we go inside and recount it over a jug of
wine?”
“Aye.” The duke turned to embrace Alicen. “Welcome
home, Mistress. ’Tis good to see you’re safe.”
“’Tis good to be in such a state, my lord.” She wrapped
one arm around Ned’s shoulders and the other around
Rhea’s and led them to the house. The men followed.
***
Much to his frustrated disappointment, Jeremy saw
precious little of Alicen in the week following their return
to Landeyda. Arranging William’s impending journey to
York to seal his alliance with the duke governed Jeremy’s
time. He corresponded daily with their allies, reinforced
his contingent with more troops, and questioned his spies.
When he wasn’t planning, he was in the saddle—
checking routes, anticipating problems, seeing to the
myriad details needed to assure William’s safety. He
personally rode to Tynan to secret William’s carriage to
Landeyda.
And all the time, his growing love for Alicen crowded
into his mind and crept into his heart.
“Taft, take the carriage to Sherford’s carpenter and
then to the smith.” Jeremy handed his lieutenant several
rolled sheets of vellum. “Have him make these
improvements to the frame and wheels. They should
provide William more protection.”
Taft poured over the sketches and nodded. “Very
good.”
“We’ll tether William’s mount to the coach. If we’re
attacked, he must flee quickly.”
“You’ve anticipated everything.”
“There will be no mistakes this time,” Jeremy stated
grimly.
Michael clapped Jeremy’s shoulder. “Each detail has
been reviewed thrice o’er. We’re prepared.”
“Almost.”
“The men respect you for working harder than anyone.
But you’ll be of no good to William if you drive yourself to
ground.”
Jeremy waved off Taft’s concern. “Too much remains
to be done to rest just now.”
“You’ll do as you will, I know,” Taft replied with a
shake of his head. “But think, man, and save some
strength. Strength will be needed for the coming days.”
“That’s the truth of it,” Jeremy agreed soberly. “I’ll be
fine, Michael. Truly.” He grinned. “Now, get you to
Sherford with the coach. There are details yet to be
attended!”
***
“Jeremy, you must rest.” William set down the
dispatches he held when his captain entered the chamber.
“All is readied for tomorrow night’s departure.” He
frowned. “Good Lord, man, you’re soaked through. Shed
those wet garments. And eat!”
“I’ve no stomach for food, my lord.” Jeremy lifted the
steaming mug he held. “This pot of cider will do me
wonders.”
“Get food and rest.” William turned to the door. “Ned!”
The boy appeared almost instantly. “Yes, my lord
duke?”
“Fetch Captain Blaine some stew, lad. And put his
cloak to dry on the hearth.”
“’Tis unnecessary,” Jeremy protested, holding more
tightly to his sodden garment. “I’m well. Besides, I’ve no
time. I meet Taft on the Great Road within the quarter
hour.”
William ran a hand through his graying hair. “You
shake with chill. All is readied. You need a good night’s
sleep.”
“I’ll rest tomorrow. I’ve much yet to see to tonight.”
William rose from the bed, moving toward Jeremy.
His commanding voice held nothing but authority when
he stated, “Someone else can tend them.”
Jeremy stiffened. “Your safety is my responsibility,
sir.”
“I regret to inform you that I’m ordering you to bed.”
The duke reached for the wet cloak. “You’ve done all that
I expect from my best captain. Now, rest on your laurels.”
“But, my lord—”
William’s upraised hand stopped the protest.
“Enough! Strip off those clothes and retire.” He pulled
the cloak from Jeremy’s shoulders then bore it to the
chamber door. Ned reentered at that moment.
Jeremy started to object, but was abruptly too weak
to do so. He blinked, trying to focus his eyes. William’s
council was so
und—a brief respite would do him good.
“Perhaps I...” He tried handing his empty mug to Ned,
but it slipped from his fingers and crashed to the floor.
“Captain?” Ned reached out to steady Jeremy. “You
look ill, sir.”
“Nay,” Jeremy objected, even as his mind grew fuzzy,
his eyes more unfocused. “I must meet Taft...”
His knees buckled.
“Fetch Alicen.” As Ned raced to do the duke’s bidding,
William knelt at his friend’s side. “Jeremy, can you stand?”
“I think yes,” he replied slowly, tongue thick and
unwieldy. He felt himself shuddering but couldn’t stop.
William helped him to his feet and to a bed, then was
pulling off Jeremy’s boots when Alicen hurried in.
“Ned said—” Understanding struck. “Allow me, my
lord.” She waved the duke away. “Please tell Ned to bring
more firewood and put the kettle on.”
Tension radiated through William’s question. “The
fever?”
Alicen nodded without looking away from Jeremy. The
silence in the room stretched, and she realized William
stared at her. She raised her head, her calm gaze meeting
his worried one.
“Will he recover?”
“I’ll not deny the severity of his ailment,” she answered
as she stripped off Jeremy’s mail. His wet tunic soon lay
atop the discarded armor, then she toweled off his body.
“Fever is always dangerous, and he’s fatigued. Yet there’s
hope he has enough strength in reserve.” She paused.
“Much depends upon his will.”
William’s face paled. “I should not have allowed him
to work so hard! Should he die, I’ll ne’er forgive myself.”
Alicen covered Jeremy with a blanket, then toweled
his wet hair. “You know him well, sir. He n’er takes an
easy route and would have changed naught even had
you asked.”
“Though you’re right, lass, I feel no better.” He helped
Alicen place his own blanket over his captain.
Drawn by the lord’s mournful tone, she turned and
lightly touched his arm. “Captain Blaine is a warrior, sir.
He’ll not succumb to this siege without fierce battle.”
“I pray God is just,” William said tightly, crossing
himself, “and grants Jeremy the victory.”
***
The hours stretched long, and Alicen did not leave
Jeremy’s side for even a moment. He looked so helpless
lying there—the invincible knight now vulnerable—she
couldn’t turn away.
“You’ll not die, Captain,” she murmured, impulsively
caressing his fevered cheek. “I’ll not allow it.”
She swallowed a sigh and bathed Jeremy with cool
cloths. Did any other man possess such a form? She
thought not. Life was a series of ironies. Common fever
could bring all Jeremy’s muscle and sinew low. Shifting
back, she flexed her shoulders to ease them, then wet
the cloth again and began retracing the planes of Jeremy’s
sculpted chest.
***
He felt a cool hand on his burning forehead, moving
lightly across his brow. Who ministered to him? Estelle!
She smiled and laughed, so happy to be carrying his
child....
“Estelle?” The name slurred on cracked lips. “Estelle?”
A soothing draught of water was pressed to his mouth,
and a firm hand held his head as he drank thirstily. Next,
he was given a warm tea tasting strongly of calamint.
“Estelle?”
“Hush. All is well. Try to rest.”
That comforting voice belonged not to Estelle. ’Twas
lower pitched, melodic. He could not remember where
he’d heard it...
“Estelle?”
“Sleep now, Captain. You need rest.”
The woman’s soothing tones caused his eyes to close.
Her light hand caressing his temple lulled him back to
sleep.
It was later—how much later he knew not—when
coolness again washed across his face. It passed slowly
down his neck, to his chest and across his belly, only to
be replaced by the fire consuming him. Groaning, he
opened his eyes to see Alicen leaning over him, brow
furrowed. She ran the cloth along his skin, but the trail
of relief from the hell he endured left when she withdrew
her hand to re-wet the cloth.
He blinked. Her image seemed disjointed, unfocused
and out of place. He tried bringing her into sharper relief
but failed.
“What—?”
“Drink.” A strong hand again raised and held his head
as a draught was administered. “Good. Now save your
strength.”
“Where is Estelle?” he rasped out. “She was here a
moment hence. Our child will arrive soon....”
Alicen bent closer. “I cannot understand you.”
He tried again to frame his thoughts, but failed to
force coherent sounds from his tortured throat.
Placing a hand on his cheek, Alicen whispered,
“Please, Captain, sleep. Think of naught but recovery.
William and the others are well.” She brushed a lock from
his brow and eased him back onto the pillow. “Rest.”
He could not. Concentrating, he willed his vision to
clear. Vivid green eyes mesmerized him. Expressive.
Beautiful. Dark when angered, sparkling when amused.
No other had eyes more lovely. Now, worry painted them
an emerald he’d never seen.
Yet, why sat she beside him? His mind skipped about,
seeking explanation for her presence. Who caused her
such worry? Some desperately ill child, mayhap? He tried
raising his head to see, but could not control his muscles.
The situation must be grave indeed. Alicen looked drawn
and tired, had obviously gone without sleep for some time.
She must care deeply for this youngster if she fought so
hard to save his life.
When I’m able, I’ll ask her about the child. But first, I
must rest a moment....
Slumped on the stool beside the bed, Alicen leaned
against the wall and dozed fitfully. Though she’d not told
William how ill his favored captain was, it had taken firm
insistence to banish the duke to her chamber for the night.
Jeremy’s fever and delirium raged. He cried out,
repeatedly muttering Estelle’s name. He pleaded with her,
implored. Clearly, he had loved her with his whole heart.
Did he love her still?
For a moment, she envied Estelle. Only profound love
would suffer so from such perceived betrayal, and Alicen
craved the love Jeremy bore his wife. This admission
stunned her like a cudgel blow to the head. Her feelings
for him went far beyond a healer’s concern for a patient—
they came from her heart.
“No,” she whispered fearfully, but her soul answered,
“Yes.” Her heart drummed a terrifying beat. “No!” her mind
screamed, even as her heart admitted the truth. Denial
did not change it.
She loved Jeremy Blaine.
But she’d not tell him. The paths
they walked could
never converge, their lives opposed and destined to remain
so. The influx of wounded to her door could not be
controlled, but emotions could be. She’d broken her vow
of neutrality once and was determined never to do so
again. If Jeremy recovered from this, he would ride away,
return to his own world and forget her.
And Duke William would wed her to another.
Mother, what should I do? she silently pleaded, then
hung her head, ashamed at seeking Kaitlyn’s council after
betraying a sacred oath. Alicen knew the truth—healers
should never love soldiers. She and Jeremy did not belong
in each other’s lives.
She would never know his love. To her dismay, she
felt her eyes fill with tears. Then she felt a warmth wrap
around her shoulders like a pair of arms. Warm air
brushed her cheek, and she closed her eyes to enhance
the sensation.
You are a healer, Alicen. Come what will. Find your
destiny and follow it, but never forsake your healing gift.
To do so will kill you.
“I’ll remember, Mother,” she whispered. “Always.” The
warm embrace left her as abruptly as it had come, but
although brief it proved a balm to her soul.
Jeremy’s groan pulled Alicen’s attention to back to
him.
Though determined not to voice her feelings, she could
not prevent her touch from showing her love. Her caresses
soothed his restiveness, her murmured endearments
challenged him to fight the fever with all his spirit.
She forced him to drink cup after cup of liquid. Dried
lettuce leaves in calamint tea calmed him, but the fever
still raged. If it did not break soon, he would not recover.
Well after midnight, Alicen knew her efforts had failed.
Jeremy burned from within. He was dying.
Use the horse trough.
Alicen rose instantly from the stool and roused Ned,
sleeping in William’s bed.
“Fetch Lieutenant Taft and three of the men,” she
said quietly. “I’ve need of them.”
Ned glanced at Jeremy, then hurried out. Within
minutes, Taft and the soldiers were crowded into the
infirmary.
“Lieutenant, your captain will die if his fever doesn’t
break very soon. Carry him outside immediately.”
Every man in the room gaped at her.
“This is a desperate stratagem,” she stated, “but it’s
Carroll, Laurie - War Of Hearts.txt Page 28