driving himself so hard.
Like the wolf who had lost his mate, he nursed his
wounded heart and longed for her. His bed became a
torture chamber where thoughts of making love to Alicen
made his life hell. Without her beside him, shadows
taunted from the darkness, mocking his inability to win
and keep a woman’s love...his inability to trust without
reservation.
Driven from his bed, he took to the forest despite the
air’s frosty nip. He ached from cold. No matter how high
he built his fire or how many blankets he wrapped about
himself, the chill pierced. Fueling his misery, he dreamed
of Alicen’s warmth but awoke alone. He cursed memories
of her supple body against him, of loving her. ’Twas all
his fault. He’d ignored her pleas and ridden away without
so much as a glance back.
The hurtful words he’d thrown at her tortured him
most deeply. She feared abandonment, yet he’d departed
without her. Now he lay alone each night, chilled and
wounded in spirit, unable to ward off the cold or ease his
body’s aching. He fell into restless sleep, aware that the
hurt in his chest was the pain of his empty heart.
After a week of self-inflicted isolation, he returned to
Tynan. It was the eve of the Duke of York’s arrival, and
Jeremy, determined not to sped another night alone in
his room, went to the guard room to spend it drinking.
The next morning, he regretted that he couldn’t
remember much of the night. And the single event he
could remember made his head ache worse than excessive
ale had ever done. He’d fought with another officer who
had mocked his drunkenness. Last night, Jeremy had
been of a mind to prove that, even sotted, he could subdue
that particular varlet. And so he had. But at what price?
***
There was nothing of Jeremy’s good friend in the tone
William used to address him when he arrived at the duke’s
summons that morning. “Captain Blaine, await my
pleasure in the antechamber while I speak with Captain
Richards.”
Jeremy bowed stiffly and left, going directly to the
nearest window casement. There, he stared dull-eyed at
the courtyard below and contemplated his crumbling life.
What had possessed him of late? For the past month, to
be exact. Never had he been so ungoverned... so
haunted...so helpless to end his suffering. He could
scarcely believe he’d brawled with another knight on the
eve before the most important campaign of his life.
He needed Alicen. His soulmate. His balance. With
her near, the world seemed less hostile. The peace he
found in her arms was worth fighting twenty of Harold to
win. He sighed. Once he gained his land and his lady,
he’d never again fight for another. He’d sworn the vow as
she slept in his arms on their return from Kirksowald.
The night he’d privately admitted his love. No one would
prevent him from keeping it.
Except, perhaps, Alicen herself. She’d not responded
in kind to his declaration of love. After his battles ended,
would she give him her heart? If not, his life would become
a void.
Her wish that he not return, the fact she wanted no
part of the carnage he would bring, plagued him. But he
was bound to go back to Landeyda, to the woman he
hoped awaited with caring in her heart for this battle-
weary knight.
The door to William’s private chamber opened just
then, and Jeremy turned in time to see Richards stride
out.
“The duke will see you now, Blaine,” Richards snapped
as he made his departure.
Venturing no comment, Jeremy quietly entered the
privy room. His duke stared out the window for several
long moments. Then, hands clasped behind him, William
slowly turned to face him.
“Despite the warnings of nearly all who know you,
you’ve done little else in the past month but train and
prepare for battle,” William began. “You’ve risked a return
of the fever that nearly killed you.”
This statement startled Jeremy. He thought he’d been
summoned for a reprimand. “This campaign is crucial,”
he said carefully. “I wish to be as prepared as I can.”
William nodded, but his expression remained solemn.
“I’ve never known you to be foolhardy, Jeremy. But what
I saw last night after Jason Warrick summoned me makes
me think common sense had abandoned you.” He plucked
a knight from the chess table beside him and idly turned
the piece in his hands. “My officers are too dear to be
wasted over drunken insults. Any who choose pride before
duty have no place with me.”
“I understand, my lord.”
William carefully set the chess piece back on the board
before he looked up to meet Jeremy’s gaze. “Do you? I
know you despise Conrad Richards.”
“He fights with his tongue not his sword,” Jeremy
ground out through a tight jaw. “Lacking the skill to win
his rank, he purchased it with his wealth.”
“I am well aware of how Richards came to be a knight,
yet I cannot afford to have him killed by another of my
officers. He may be a cockscomb, but he brings twenty
retainers to my cause. Every one a skilled warrior.”
Jeremy locked his hands behind his back to keep
William from seeing his clenched fists. “My actions were
foolish and indefensible. I was drunk. It won’t happen
again.”
Jeremy saw a glint of sympathy in William’s eyes and
wished he’d not looked up at that very moment. He didn’t
deserve pity.
“I’ve not seen you so drunk since the night Estelle
died.”
That stark memory burned into his mind’s eye. “As I
said, ‘twill not happen again.”
“Jason was actually worried about you.”
Jeremy vaguely recalled his conversation with Jason
Warrick. Something about urging his friend to drink with
him and Warrick’s saying Jeremy had drunk enough for
them both.
And he clearly remembered the brawl with Conrad
Richards. Richards’ challenge. His own acceptance. He
also recalled William’s arrival in the guard room. His duke
had informed all present that, should any of them duel
amongst themselves, he’d execute the victor.
“If you kill Richards, I’ll have you hanged,” William
stated, interrupting Jeremy’s morose recollections. The
duke’s gaze shifted to hold his. “What a waste that would
be.”
Leaden-hearted, Jeremy remained silent. He’d
incurred his lord’s wrath, for what? Over a fool’s drunken
insults? Because he couldn’t have a woman? Nay, not
just any woman, he reminded himself, the only one he
loved. The woman who wouldn’t love a soldier because
she had sworn to protect the lives duty compelled him to
destroy.
“Don’t allow your fe
elings to blind you to what must
be done,” William warned softly. “You know as well as I
that a man on the verge of battle needs a clear head.”
“My feelings never interfere with my duty.”
“You’ve not been in love in years,” came the wry retort.
“Your recollection of past experience is murky.”
“I love no one.”
William’s brow rose. “My wife tells me you’ve ignored
every female at court since your return from Landeyda a
month ago. It intrigues her, as you’ve never completely
scorned a lady’s advances ere now.”
Inwardly, Jeremy shuddered to think the duchess had
observed his behavior and then informed William. Likely
she knew the reason for it, but he’d not admit she was
right.
“With respect, my lord,” he began slowly, “Lady
Guendolyn is a kindhearted and romantic soul. But in
this instance she sees what does not exist.”
“My wife claims you’ve lost your heart, and I believe
her.”
“My lord—”
William cut him off with an upraised hand. “Alicen
Kent is a fine woman. One worth losing both head and
heart over.”
Jeremy stared, jaw momentarily slack, then dropped
all pretense. “How did you know ’twas Alicen?”
William smiled. “You’re like a son to me. A father
recognizes his son’s suffering. Since your return, you’ve
been a walking ghost. The only thing that could cause
such a change in you is a woman.”
“Am I that easily revealed?” Jeremy crossed to the
hearth and stared into the dying embers.
“Nay. Yet I’ve known you seventeen years. Since your
family sent their eight-year-old son to me to foster. I read
your moods well.” Jeremy kept silent vigil at the hearth,
and William moved to clap him on the shoulder. “Alicen
is as fine a lady as any in England. Don’t fear surrender
to her.”
“You have promised to wed her to one of your
subjects.” He raised his gaze to the duke’s. “But, you’ve
not mentioned me as a possible husband.”
William squeezed Jeremy’s shoulder. “In truth, lad, I
said nothing for I was unsure where the wind lay. Now I
know you love her, and I’ll gladly give her to you in
marriage.”
“She doesn’t love me.” His words sounded desolate
even to his own ears.
“Have faith!” William emphasized his words by giving
Jeremy a gentle shake. “Alicen is completely without guile.
She’ll be a loyal companion for the rest of your days.”
Jeremy’s mouth tightened, and he had to swallow
hard before speaking. “She cannot love a soldier, nor does
she believe I’ll return to her after Harold’s defeat.”
“I see.” William nodded slowly. “Then you must
convince her you intend to remain with her.”
“How shall I do that? Within a fortnight we ride against
Harold.” Looking down, he noted dispassionately that his
hands had again fisted into white-knuckled balls. “I
cannot go to her until this war ends.”
“You’ll see her within two days.” Without meeting
Jeremy’s eyes, William turned to the map of Sherford
lying on the table. “We need every available healer for
this campaign. York proposes we make his castle our
base camp, and I proposed we establish a hospital there.”
William raised his gaze to Jeremy’s. “Ride to Landeyda
and fetch Alicen, Ned and Rhea to Durham. Tell them it
is at my command. I’m in desperate need of their skills.”
“Alicen won’t treat just our wounded,” Jeremy stated,
pride in his love’s integrity a fierce ache in his chest.
“She may tend any she pleases.” William’s look turned
intense. “Will you fetch her?”
“I’ll do my best to persuade her, my lord. Though I’m
uncertain she can be tempted from her home.”
“She’ll have your welfare to attend, man. What more
could she need to follow you to Durham?”
“Trust, mayhap?” Jeremy countered with a sardonic
smile. “I’ve not given her that.”
***
Four days before Duke William of Tynan’s army
marched north to meet the Duke of York’s at Durham,
Jeremy rode to Landeyda with Michael Taft and two
soldiers. Hoping to influence Alicen’s decision to his favor,
he first stopped in Sherford and found Rhea. The old
midwife readily agreed to aid William, provided they
brought along the foundling, Pearl, and Liza Wick and
her baby.
Jeremy smiled fondly as he scooped up Liza’s two-
month old son and held him high in the air. His smile
widened at the baby’s gurgled laughter. Then his mirth
faded. Did Alicen even now carry his child? If so, would
she welcome such a burden?
“We’ll need all the aid we can procure,” he stated to
Rhea as he returned the boy to Liza. “Pearl is old enough
to assist you, and Liza is also welcome.” He turned to
Taft, who stood staring at the young mother. “Michael,
help them with their supplies. Michael?” He nudged his
lieutenant. “Duty calls.”
Taft flushed deeply. “My apologies, Captain.” He
bowed to the women. “Ladies. If you’ll show me what needs
be loaded...”
“This way, sir,” Liza said shyly, gazing up through
her lashes at the lieutenant’s weathered features.
Jeremy watched, bemused, as Taft followed Liza to
her hut.
“Methinks the good man has found a love,” Rhea
observed.
“So easily?” Jeremy countered with soft irony, turning
to the old midwife. “’Tis not possible.”
Rhea drew her woolen cloak around her and
straightened her bent frame. “Mayhap for you, falling in
love is not simple,” she said kindly, “but ’tis uncomplicated
for those who trust.”
Trust. That word had mocked him since he’d left
Landeyda a month earlier. Even knowing Estelle hadn’t
betrayed him—knowing all women weren’t faithless—he
refused to trust Alicen with his heart. He had told her of
his love, and she’d thrown him out of her home. Yet
honesty prompted him to admit that her rejection came
from fear rather than enmity. Fear he’d not return. That
he loved fighting more than he could ever love her. He
shut his eyes. ’Twas time to prove his love. And time to
trust her integrity and honor.
“Tell Taft I’ll meet you at Landeyda,” Jeremy said to
Rhea. “I must speak to Alicen alone.”
***
An unusually warm November sun lit the clearing
where Alicen sat at midday beside her mother’s grave.
After a morning spent cleaning cottage and stable, she’d
seized a chance to rest. Ned had tended the animals—
naught remained to do that couldn’t wait an hour. She
escaped to the isolated clearing, intent upon letting her
mind rest along with her body.
But thoughts of a handsom
e knight who’d awakened
her passion and won her heart intruded. Not a day had
passed since Jeremy’s departure that she did not think
of him. And every night. Especially at night.
She shivered despite the warm sun. As a healer, she
was well aware of the physical aspects of coupling. But
she’d never suspected the emotions involved in such
intimacy. Jeremy’s desire, his tenderness, his love had
penetrated her heart. They lodged there, unimpeachable.
She ached from missing him.
“Why did you leave?” she asked the slight breeze.
“Why ride to York to be with William instead of remaining
with me?”
She knew the futility of such questions, just as she
knew his reasons for going. But accepting them proved
difficult. She had never known a man’s love, thus she
had no wellspring from which to draw strength for this
emotional struggle.
And it truly had been a struggle. At first, she feared
she’d been left with child. Yet when her normal cycle
resumed soon after his departure, she’d been saddened
to think memories were all she had of him. Her
despondency had grown so deep Ned became openly
concerned. She did not reveal the true reasons for her
despair, saying instead she missed life as it had been
before William and his soldiers had plunged them into
subterfuge.
The breeze picked up slightly to swirl around her,
tugging gently at her hair. Her head came up, and she
smiled wryly.
“You always said life continues despite us, Mother,”
she murmured, voice directed to the Celtic cross at the
base of the large oak. “And I must, too.”
You are first and foremost a healer, Alicen.
“Yes.” If she pined away for a soldier, her vow would
go unserved. She’d waste away to naught while aiding no
one. The memories had to be locked up, her duties
continued...
But don’t forget you have a heart that must be cared
for as well.
A horse’s nicker from behind made Alicen’s every
nerve burn. Lost to her musings, she’d heard no one
approach. Dread’s chill raced up her spine. Ned would
have been on foot. Choked with terror, Alicen rose and
turned slowly to face the intruder.
Her breath left her lungs in a gasp. “Jeremy!”
Though she thought she’d shouted, she’d merely
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