Carroll, Laurie - War Of Hearts.txt

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by War Of Hearts. txt (lit)


  I’ve naught left to say.”

  “I’ve heard every word you’ve uttered—”

  “And yet you’ll ride out to fight.” She choked back a

  sob, hating her weakness, hating his seeing her so

  vulnerable.

  Leaning down, he placed a soft kiss on her temple.

  “That is my duty,” he stated simply. “Yet ‘twill never

  change my love for you.”

  “Love!” Summoning all her strength, she wrenched

  from his arms and spun on him, enraged. “How dare you

  say you love me, then put yourself in such danger?”

  Trembling uncontrollably, she stepped away when he

  reached for her. “Don’t touch me! You declare your love,

  yet won’t consider what will happen to me or even to Ned

  should you die in battle.” Tears blurred her vision and

  choked her voice, but she managed to add, “I’ll not remain

  to watch you fight, Jeremy. Ride against Harold’s

  champion, and I’ll be gone when you return.”

  Anger mixed with pain hit Jeremy like a fist to his

  chest. “So that’s the lay of things. I implored you to leave

  for safety’s sake, but you’d not. Now, you’re more than

  happy to.”

  “I stayed because you needed me. Now, all you need

  is your glory.”

  She buried her face in her hands in a vain attempt to

  stem her tears. This time, when Jeremy enfolded her in

  his arms, she made no effort to free herself. Instead, she

  laid her head on his chest and sobbed.

  He rubbed her back and shoulders, whispering

  soothing words, easing the tension in her body.

  “Ah, my sweet, stubborn minx,” he crooned,

  continuing his ministrations. “How can I make you

  understand what duty compels me to do?”

  Lifting her head from his chest, she fixed him with

  glistening eyes. “You cannot make me grasp such

  reasoning. Does duty compel you to die, Jeremy?”

  He shook his head, then brushed away her tears with

  gentle fingers. “Nay, sweetling. But I must fight. Single

  combat will spare men’s lives, not to mention the women

  and children who now suffer inside Escomb’s walls.”

  Alicen’s mind returned to a similar scene in which he

  had fought another to spare more casualties, and abruptly

  pride in his selflessness warred with her fear for his life.

  “Too much strain could reopen your wound,” came

  her fierce whisper. “If such should happen...” She lowered

  her head back to his chest, trembling. “I cannot bear the

  agony of witnessing this. I intend to leave this place of

  death as swiftly as Hercules will carry me.”

  Jeremy’s body tensed at her words. “Am I naught to

  you but a faceless victim who requires tending?” he grated

  out. “Do you feel for me as for any man with guts in hands,

  pleading that you make him whole again?”

  “Nay.” Her arms slid around his slim waist to lock

  behind his back. “I’ve given myself to you. None other.

  Does that not tell you of my regard?”

  He held her closer. “You’ve never spoken of such

  feelings, lass. What am I to think?”

  “You’ve stolen my heart, Sir Jeremy Blaine. And now

  you make sport with it by risking your life unnecessarily.”

  His hand beneath her chin lifted her face to his. “I do

  not sport with what I hold dear,” he said, then brushed

  her lips with a kiss. “Just as I do not sport with my life by

  entering into combat. Do not demand that out of love for

  you I withdraw from the field. I’ll do so if you ask. Yet this

  is the swiftest way to end the war and regain all. All I

  want to share with you.”

  Her heartbeat accelerated alarmingly at his

  declaration. But caution made her ask, “You mean to

  share your bed with me as your mistress?”

  “I mean to share that and far more with you as my

  wife.”

  “I, marry a soldier?” she mocked, trying to make light

  of her sudden yearning to do that very thing. “Duke

  William would have me wed a Sherford merchant. You

  must be mad.”

  Jeremy shook his head. “Mad, indeed, to think I could

  truly win your stubborn heart. Know you not that I would

  gladly die for you?”

  “I want no man to lay down his life for mine.”

  Only the look that briefly flashed in Alicen’s eyes kept

  Jeremy from despair. He’d seen a spark of hope and love

  shining there for him, and understood that fear he’d be

  killed kept her from openly committing her heart. He

  sighed. His headstrong, self-reliant healer would require

  proof before she accepted that he’d return to live out his

  days with her.

  “I’ll not allow you to leave,” he stated grimly. “During

  the challenge, Harold may attempt escape. The roads will

  not be safe to travel.”

  “I won’t remain here while you fight.” Alicen raised

  her fists and shoved against his chest until he released

  her. She backed farther away.

  He started after her but halted, arrested by her look

  of pure anguish. Holding both hands toward her in

  supplication, he said quietly, “Alicen, I need you—”

  She jerked as if he’d struck her. “Nay, you do not.

  You need your horse and your weapons and your duty,

  not me.” Face bleak, she added, “And I don’t need you.”

  He looked at her with all the tenderness in his heart.

  “You’re wrong, lass. I need you as all living things need

  food and water.” Two steps closed the gap between them,

  then he reached out both hands to capture her face. “I’ll

  die if we’re separated. Those weeks you were at Landeyda

  and I at Tynan, I was mad with longing. All who

  approached me risked their lives to do so. And it was all

  for want of you.”

  When he caressed the line of her jaw with his long

  fingers, Alicen’s eyelids closed. But her eyes brimmed

  with tears when she opened them again.

  “I’ve been so long alone, I dare not believe I could be

  part of someone’s life,” she said, voice husky. “Should

  that wish not come true, I’ll never recover.”

  He dropped his hands from her face and gently

  grasped her shoulders.

  “Alicen, look at me,” he commanded softly. He waited

  until her gaze met his before saying, “Today I fight not for

  William but for you. I hold my duty most dear, and that

  duty is to see you safe, happily wed to me, and the mother

  of my children.”

  His words struck a chord so deep in her she thought

  she’d collapse from the sensation of it. But before she

  could respond and tell him of the child she carried,

  Michael Taft shook the tent flap to gain their attention.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  Taft peered inside the tent just long enough to say,

  “Time grows short, Jeremy. We must get you armed.”

  Jeremy nodded. “Michael, send in Fish, Naismith,

  Burke and Weed.”

  He held Alicen close, regretting what he had to do.

  He’d not risk losing her. Yet
, would her affection die from

  his latest plot? He told himself to have faith, to trust her

  strong nature. But doubts nagged him.

  The soldiers entered.

  “Take Mistress Kent and confine her in Duke William’s

  tent ‘til my return,” he succinctly ordered his men. He

  ignored Alicen’s indignant gasp and her furious

  expression. He shifted his gaze from the men to the woman

  in his arms. “You know her to be cleverly resourceful

  and thus realize you must not be lax in your duties. Know

  now that, should she escape you, I’ll execute you to a

  man.”

  “How dare you!” Alicen cried, twisting in his grasp.

  She sought to strike him, but quickly found her arms

  pinned behind her. Muttering dark oaths, she thrashed

  against him until his embrace immobilized her in a

  crushing hold. “You’ll not keep me here against my will,”

  she ground out through clenched teeth. “I’ll not stay to

  see you die.”

  “Nay, you’ll not,” he agreed huskily. “You’ll stay to

  see me return in triumph.” Burying his face in her hair,

  he whispered, “Trust me, my lady. Naught of this Earth

  will keep me from your side.” His hold gentled, and she

  felt him shaking. “Forgive me, love. I’ll fight poorly if I fret

  over you. Confined, you’ll be safe, not abroad endangering

  yourself.”

  Alicen lifted defiant eyes to him, then straightened in

  his hold. When he released her, she turned proudly on

  her heel and left the tent, her escort surrounding her.

  Heart leaden, Jeremy called for Taft and Robert, and

  they immediately set about their battle preparations. As

  Michael and the squire helped him into his mail and

  armor, he flexed his sore shoulder, recalling Alicen’s fears.

  He’d often borne serious injuries into battle—’twas a

  warrior’s way. She saw only danger and pain, not ultimate

  victory. And this victory would be most sweet—his lands

  and a life far from war’s carnage.

  He fervently prayed she’d be part of that life.

  “Do you think this will hold?” Taft asked again, this

  time coupling the question with a shove to Jeremy’s sound

  shoulder. “Cease your woolgathering, man! ’Tis time to

  fight.”

  Jeremy’s eyes refocused from the future to the

  present. “What say you, Michael?”

  “Will this extra gusset of mail hold in place?”

  Glancing down at his left shoulder, Jeremy nodded.

  “’Tis secured to the arming doublet. I see no reason why

  it won’t.”

  “The bulk will make your armor fit more tightly,” Taft

  warned. “Will you be able to maneuver with it?”

  “Aye. It won’t hinder me.”

  Jeremy rarely bothered protecting an injury. But his

  promise to provide for Alicen prompted him to add

  reinforcement. A regretful grimace twisted his lips.

  Mayhap he’d not have a woman to return to after this

  day’s work. She of a certain resented his callous

  treatment. But did she resent it enough to refuse his suit?

  “Woolgathering again?” Taft cut in caustically. “’Tis

  no time for aught but the task at hand.” He dropped

  Jeremy’s hauberk over his head and buckled his cuirass

  into place. “Purge the woman from your mind, or you’ll

  not keep your head on your shoulders long enough to

  think of her ever more.”

  Jeremy shot his friend an annoyed look. “Don’t

  presume to tutor me, Michael,” he growled. “Just get this

  damned armor secured.”

  In a few moments more the task was completed.

  Jeremy strapped his sword to his waist, then took his

  helmet from Robert.

  “Your shield and mace are on your saddle, Sir

  Jeremy,” the young man said respectfully. “Do you require

  aught else?”

  “Just a moment alone, lad.”

  Taft and the squire had moved to the tent opening

  when Ned burst in. Jeremy knew he gaped in surprise at

  this intrusion even as Ned skidded to a halt before him.

  “Captain Blaine, thank Jesu you’re still here,” Ned

  gasped, breathless from haste. “I was asked to deliver

  this to you.”

  Brow raised, Jeremy accepted a leather pouch from

  the boy’s trembling hand. He tousled Ned’s blond hair.

  “Thank you, lad. I—”

  “You’re not to open it ‘til you’re alone,” Ned broke in

  when Jeremy’s hands moved to the pouch’s string.

  “Please, sir.”

  Jeremy nodded, then glanced around. “I was just

  about to be so, Ned. You arrived in the nick of time.”

  With youthful impetuosity, Ned threw his arms

  around Jeremy’s waist and hugged him, even though

  unyielding armor kept the man from feeling the embrace.

  “Have a care, sir,” he intoned softly. “Don’t let that

  evil man hurt you.”

  Jeremy returned the boy’s hug and muttered gruffly,

  “I’ve no intention of that happening, lad. Put your mind

  at rest.” Brown eyes full of admiration turned up to his,

  warming him. “Go to your mistress now. She needs you

  beside her.”

  An uncommon dampness teased Jeremy’s eyes as he

  watched Ned depart with the others. He loved the boy

  like a son. Perhaps he could adopt him. At least foster

  him. Would Alicen approve? The lump he swallowed

  turned to a cinder lodged in his heart. Even if she loved

  him, would they ever wed? She saw a soldier, not a man

  worthy of her devotion. Mayhap he was a fool to think he

  could convince her otherwise.

  Dismayed, he knelt in front of the small crucifix sitting

  on the only table in his tent. It was then he remembered

  the pouch in his hands. Almost absentmindedly, he

  opened it and reached in to pull out the contents.

  His fingers closed around metal, and curious, he drew

  the object out to examine closely. It was his dagger. He’d

  not even noticed its absence, must have dropped it during

  his latest convalescence. But what arrested his sight was

  wound around the cross-guard.

  Alicen’s amulet.

  His breath caught in his chest as he realized why it

  had looked familiar to him so many weeks before. It was

  the exact duplicate of the pattern on his dagger’s hilt.

  “Christ be praised!” he whispered fervently.

  Tears of joy filled his eyes as he bent his head,

  thanking God for this token of Alicen’s love. He’d not

  thought to see such a thing, especially this day. His prayer

  done, he put the amulet around his neck and tucked it

  safely beneath his arming doublet, against his skin. Then

  he rose and strapped his dagger to his side. He knew her

  heart was in that amulet, and he would defend it with his

  life.

  The hair on his nape raised suddenly, but the

  sensation was curiously comforting rather than startling.

  Best keep your promise to her, Captain, whispered Kaitlyn

  O’Rourke. She’s waiting for you.

  “My word on it,” he answered
firmly, eyes raised to

  heaven.

  ***

  Perspiration clung like a caul to Alicen’s skin. How

  long had she awaited word of the combat? It seemed her

  pacing would wear a path in William’s fine Persian rug.

  Her guards remained outside the tent, one posted at each

  corner.

  Ned had been so excited about the trial of arms that

  Alicen had allowed him to go to the field. His enthusiasm

  only made her more keenly aware that her view of such

  activities differed vastly from others’. And why should it

  not? After all, it fell to her to mend the results of such

  folly.

  And suffer a terrible loss should Jeremy fail to

  triumph.

  All manner of fears played through her head like the

  notes of a funeral dirge. She contemplated escaping, but

  immediately abandoned the idea. Her success would

  mean death to four innocent men. Jeremy had given his

  word to execute them, and he’d see it through. No, she

  had to remain confined until such time as he came to

  fetch her.

  Or returned to her on a bier.

  Have faith, Daughter.

  “How can I, Mother,” Alicen cried in a fierce whisper.

  “Father died in battle. You lost your life at a soldier’s

  hands. Soldiers fight and die. Why should I believe Jeremy

  will live?”

  He has your amulet and the power of love to protect

  him.

  “And no other soldier ever died in battle while carrying

  another’s love with him?”

  I’ll not deny that. But Jeremy has your amulet and his

  dagger. A potent combination that will protect him this day.

  You are fated to be together, and no power in the mortal

  world will interfere with that destiny.

  “But how?”

  Centuries ago, a Druid high priest had the pieces made

  for himself from stones considered sacred to the order.

  The arrangement of those stones in both the dagger and

  the amulet create a formidable protective force, especially

  when the two pieces are together.

  Intrigued despite her fears for Jeremy, Alicen asked,

  “How did they come to be separated?”

  The legends aren’t specific, but some time after the

  high priest died, the two pieces disappeared. The amulet

  was found in a cairn in Ireland by your great-great-great-

  great grandmother, and passed down to her daughter, and

  thus through our female line to you. I’ve no idea how

 

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