he pierced the knight’s throat. The man died before he
fell from his saddle.
Sweat blurred Jeremy’s vision as he fought in the
melee’s center, wheeling Charon again and again to meet
new attackers. Undaunted, he hacked at the hazy images
before him, unhorsing an opponent. But when he pulled
Charon around, his saddle girth broke, dumping him
cursing at the man’s feet. Landing flat on his back cleared
his sight.
He saw death awaiting him in the form of a mail-clad
enemy with sword upraised.
Quick reflexes kept his head attached to his body as
the blow arced downward. He rolled, avoiding the blade,
bringing his own sword up in the move. His enemy’s
momentum followed the path of his swing, and he impaled
himself on Jeremy’s weapon. The man collapsed dead on
the ground.
At once unbelievably weary, Jeremy rose on shaky
legs. Planting his foot on the dead knight’s chest, he freed
his sword and wiped the blood off on the grass. It took a
moment before he realized the fight had ended. Those of
Harold’s men still living had fled, pursued by William’s
retainers. He stood alone—every warrior at his feet a
corpse. Too numb to notice the carnage, he removed his
helmet and pulled his coif back, then wiped sweat from
his face with the hem of his tunic. He drew several deep
breaths and assessed his injuries.
Though every joint and muscle ached, he was fit. But
his damaged equipment forced him to concede the field.
He sheathed his sword and tossed the broken saddle onto
Charon’s back. From the equipage strewn about, he chose
the largest destrier still standing, two stout shields and a
serviceable sword. He secured these weapons on his
useless saddle, mounted the new horse and led Charon
back to the camp.
And, as had happened every rare quiet moment
during the last month, his thoughts turned to Alicen.
Only memories of their night of ecstasy kept him from
despair. He’d not seen her since the fighting began, but
news of her reached him from Durham. Casualties had
mounted with each battle, and the cold weather made
living conditions in the field miserable. By the score, the
wounded and ill were taken in carts to the castle.
Alicen and Antonio Saldi, William’s physician, had
made one guardroom a ward for the critical cases. A
second, run by York’s physicians, held less seriously
wounded. Rumor held that Saldi, the venerable Italian
healer, even studied Alicen’s techniques. Jeremy smiled
at that thought. Pride in her skill assuaged his guilt.
But only for a few moments. He remembered the
reason she presently resided at Durham—to heal injuries
he and his fellow warriors caused. Because of him, she
slaved to knit broken bodies back into men. He’d fought
for a month without two consecutive days of rest, yet
he’d wager all he owned that Alicen had worked harder,
most likely long into every night as well as through each
day. How could he subject her to such torment? He’d
promised her protection.
He’d given her a view of hell.
By the time he arrived in camp, the afternoon weather
had turned bleak. A cold rain drove men inside as the
horses huddled together for warmth. Jeremy stopped at
William’s tent to report his troop’s activities.
Wearily rubbing his forehead, the duke nodded at
Jeremy’s account. Afterward, he studied his captain.
“Return to Durham for a week. You need rest.”
“But my lord—”
William raised a brow. “You’ve fought dawn to dusk
for a month.” He produced vellum, quill and ink, writing
hastily as he spoke. “Go to Durham this very day and
remain until Wednesday next. Deliver this requisition to
the seneschal.” He read aloud: “Threescore of herrings, a
score of sheep, ten salted pigs, five stone bags each of
figs, rice, raisins, oats, and rye, five hogsheads of wine.
Have I omitted aught of import?”
“I think not.”
William rolled the vellum into a scroll and handed it
over. “’Tis too cold to fight.”
Jeremy thought to protest his removal from the field,
but didn’t. He could see Alicen! His dark mood suddenly
lifting, he nodded assent, then bowed slightly.
“I’ll change saddles and mounts immediately and
depart.”
William cocked his head. “For once you barely resist
my will. Have I witnessed a miracle?”
“Aye, my lord.” Jeremy smiled. “You’re far wiser than
I. I must admit.”
“Truly a miracle.” William indicated the scroll in
Jeremy’s hand. “Deliver that posthaste. We’ve need of
many supplies.”
As he left the tent, supply list tucked inside his tunic,
Jeremy thought of his chosen lady. ’Twould be heaven to
see her. Hold her. Make love with her.
This last image brought him up short. He’d told no
one of his congress with her, though some knew of his
regard. Would she refuse his bed? Although they would
be discreet, such activity approached a public declaration
of being lovers. Mayhap she’d not wish for such an
arrangement.
She had every right to spurn him, considering his
duplicity. Chagrined, he relived the eve of battle and the
trick he’d used to draw her to his bed. Recalled their
incredible passion. He would die without her love, but
had he destroyed the bond between them?
Could she love him if she distrusted him?
***
He arrived at Durham too late to do aught but order
a hot bath and a cold meal and retire. Though he longed
to see Alicen, he was not at his best, so thought to seek
her out after he’d rested. After he’d had time to plan
another apology for tricking her. Too weary to think, he
chose sleep.
Midmorning the next day he entered the infirmary.
Locating her proved easy. Chestnut hair tied back from
her face, she sat beside a soldier’s pallet. As Jeremy
stared, pride and love filled his heart. He felt the most
fortunate of souls for having found this incredible woman.
However, when she raised her head and he saw her
exhaustion, his breath caught. Quietly, he approached
from behind as she bent over the patient, resalving
wounds and changing bandages.
“When was the last time you ate a hearty meal and
slept a full night?” he asked without preamble.
She started then stiffened, turning to send him an
ominous look. “Captain, I know myself. Your concern is
unwarranted.”
Planting fists on hips, he glared down at her. “Dammit,
woman, cease being mulish. You’re working yourself into
the charnel house. I’ll not allow it!”
“You’ll not allow it?” She abruptly stood, fire flickering
in her tired eyes. “Jeremy Blaine, you’ve no voice where
I’m c
oncerned. I take no orders from you.”
“You’d be a damned sight better off if you did. You’re
ready to drop.”
“I’m perfectly fit,” she stated too adamantly to sound
convincing. “If you haven’t observed, all labor hard here.”
Jeremy started to reach for her, then dropped his
hand to his side and uttered in a deep, tender tone, “You
hardest of all, lass. You’re played out. Seek your rest.”
Alicen resisted the comfort his words stirred in her,
the joy evoked by seeing him safe before her.
“Leave me in peace, sir,” she replied in a voice too
weary to be commanding.
She turned away, but her dismissal of him ended
almost immediately when she caught one foot on a nearby
pallet and stumbled to her hands and knees. She
scrambled to regain her feet only to fall back to her knees,
unable to rise.
Jeremy swiftly knelt at her side to lift her into his
arms. “Enough of your headstrong folly. You’re going to
rest. Now.”
“Put me down this instant! I’m needed in the ward.”
Alicen struggled feebly, strength ebbing like a tide.
Her effort merely saw her held more closely.
“The wounded will do without you for a little.
Otherwise, you’ll die at this pace. Then where would we
soldiers be?”
Dizziness scattered her thoughts and sapped her
anger. Thus, she had to endure him carrying her across
the courtyard to the keep. He stopped only after entering
his own room and laying her on the bed. He had claimed
her for all to see, and she was too exhausted to attempt
resistance.
“Jeremy—“ She struggled to rise. “I cannot stay here.”
“Lie still.” His voice was firm as he carefully pushed
her back down. “You’re not leaving this bed until morn.”
“But ’tis not yet past midday!” Difficulty focusing her
eyes forced Alicen to remain prone. Knowing she couldn’t
fight blind, she concentrated on controlling her whirling
senses.
Jeremy ignored her protests, stripping her of slippers
and hose, the apron covering her frock, and the frock
itself. Alicen grew steadily more tense as each article of
clothing came off. He knew that, regardless of her fatigue,
he’d have a battle on his hands if he hesitated a moment
before divesting her of her chemise and adding it to the
pile of soiled apparel at his feet.
“This garment needs a good washing,” he muttered
gruffly, removing it so deftly she had no time to say him
nay. Just as deftly, he covered her with a sheet and
blanket, then strode to the chamber door. “Page!”
When a youngster in Durham’s livery appeared,
Jeremy ordered him to bring more water, another basin
and clean cloths. The youth’s jaw dropped wide when he
saw the woman in the bed.
“Mistress Kent!” He shot Jeremy an anxious look.
“She’s merely exhausted, not ill. Now, fetch what I
bade you get.”
Jeremy returned to Alicen’s side. Her forehead felt
warm but not feverish, and though dark circles smudged
her lovely eyes, her color was good. He hoped she only
needed rest. If she was truly ill...He could not bear to
think of it.
“This is unnecessary,” she complained weakly when
he held his hand to her forehead.
“I’m giving the orders now,” he whispered. He
smoothed her hair back from her face. “Lie still.”
When the page returned with the requested items,
Jeremy dipped a folded cloth into the cool water, wrung
it out, then placed it on Alicen’s brow. Her eyes flickered
open, then closed.
“You cannot force me to remain here against my will,”
she murmured, eyes still shut.
“Aye, I can.” He stroked her cheek with his knuckles.
“And I will, if I must tie you to the bed to do so.”
“You are cruel, Jeremy.”
His hand froze against her face. “You think me cruel
for preventing your death?”
Eyes glazed with fatigue fixed on him, and she
squinted before speaking, as if to focus her thoughts.
“You force me to do what I wish not to. Make me feel
what I wish not to.”
“Exhaustion fashions babble,” he chided gruffly,
swallowing around the lump lodged in his throat. “Hush
now. Sleep.” He pressed a soft kiss to her lips. “We’ll talk
in the morn. For now, you must rest.” He kissed her again.
“Rest, my love.”
Jeremy steadfastly guarded her for the rest of the
day, shielding her from all who would disturb her. He
spoke to Rhea and Liza, assuaging their fears. Ned’s
concern made the lad restive, so Jeremy sent him to
gather William’s supplies. The boy need not sit at Alicen’s
bedside and worry. ’Twas better he be kept occupied, since
Jeremy worried enough for all.
At dusk Jason arrived with Saldi and a missive from
William. The kindly physician confirmed Jeremy’s belief
that Alicen needed sleep more than aught else.
“Keep her resting quietly until the morrow.” Saldi
handed Jeremy a packet of medicine. “If she stirs, mix
this in her wine, and she’ll slumber through the night. I’ll
examine her more thoroughly in the morn.”
Jeremy extended his hand to the old physician. “My
thanks to you, Antonio, for your regard.”
A broad smile creased a hundred wrinkles in Saldi’s
face. “She is an astounding healer,” he replied with
genuine affection. “We must not allow such talent to
destroy itself. You were wise to make her rest, Captain.”
“’Twas more I appeared when she collapsed than from
any of my doing,” Jeremy replied dryly. “She couldn’t very
well refuse me when she couldn’t remain standing.”
Both Jason and Antonio voiced agreement to that
observation.
“Send word should you need aught,” Warrick said.
“Does the weather turn favorable, we’ll lay siege to
Harold’s stronghold by week’s end. You’d be wise to rest,
as William intended.” He slapped Jeremy on the back
then left with Saldi.
Jeremy saw them to the door before returning to stand
over the bed, gazing down at the woman who occupied it
and his heart. He studied Alicen’s comely features—the
straight nose, generous mouth, and strong chin that
comprised an unforgettable visage. She was not classically
beautiful like many women he’d met, but her inner beauty
would last long after time weathered any outward
attractiveness.
He recalled vividly the feel of her—each curve and
soft spot—the way she moved against him, her cries when
she found her pleasure. Desire tightened his groin, but
he ignored it. He’d never deceive her again. Instead, he’d
lure her to him for life.
Yet would she love him—marry him—when this war
ended? Could he win her heart? Hours slipped by as he
worried these q
uestions like a hound worrying a bone.
Close to midnight, Alicen stirred. She started to sit
up, but even in her sleep-drunken state, realized her lack
of attire and gave up the attempt.
“’Tis late,” she said quietly when she spotted Jeremy
sitting nearby.
“Aye.” The love in his eyes shone in his tender look.
“You’ve remained beside me all this time?” At his nod,
she stared up at the canopy over the bed and ran a hand
through her hair. “You thought I’d awaken and leave.”
She spoke softly, but heard the note of accusation in her
own voice.
“Nay.” His reply was soft as well. “I sought to keep
you undisturbed, naught else.” He glanced to the wine
on the stand beside the bed. “Saldi left a draught should
you be unable to sleep.” He grasped her hand and
brushed it with his lips. “Will you require such?”
She stifled a yawn. “Nay.”
Releasing her hand, he gently massaged her temples
and forehead. “Return to your slumber, lass. You’ve need
of it yet,” he whispered as he continued the massage.
Jeremy had hardly finished speaking before noticing
she again slept. Succumbing to his own fatigue, he
disrobed and joined her in the bed. Pillowing her head
against his shoulder, he held her close, sighing at the
feel of her warm beside him.
“I love you, Alicen,” he said softly. “Heaven knows
I’ve tried not to, but I cannot help myself. I love you.”
Closing his eyes, he fell into the first contented sleep
he’d enjoyed since the fighting started.
***
“Will you tell him of the child?” Antonio Saldi asked
as he finished examining Alicen before his morning
rounds the next day.
Blushing, she shook her head. “I’ve only been certain
of it myself these few days past.” At seeing Saldi’s
expression, she firmly added, “He must concern himself
with the siege, naught else. Distraction could be
calamitous, and learning of a babe might cause him more
harm than good.”
“I know him well. You must not keep this from him.”
“I must for now.” Alicen reached to touch the healer’s
arm. “Please believe me when I say ’tis for Jeremy’s good.”
Saldi shrugged then smiled. “Who am I to contradict
your belief? I am happy for the babe within you. The
miracle of life. I wish you to be happy, also.”
Carroll, Laurie - War Of Hearts.txt Page 35