“What does imperative mean?” asked the boy, looking down at the book.
“Well, it means –”
“Never mind what it means.” Sir Rick bolted off the chair and ran across the room, knocking into a chair and falling on the ground in the rushes.
“I want to play, too,” cried Noah, jumping off the bed and landing on top of Sir Rick.
“Oomph,” said Sir Rick as the air left his lungs with the boy’s weight atop him. Noah pretended to be riding him like a horse.
“Nay, Noah, get off of Sir Rick!” Hope shouted. “He’s wounded and you’re going to hurt him.”
“Immortal people can’t get hurt,” said the boy. “Can they?”
“What? Well, no, I don’t think so,” said Hope, figuring the boy was still thinking about the sentence she read from the book.
“Time to go, Noah.” Sir Rick sprang to his feet, scooping up the boy under one arm and heading across the room. With one hand he pulled open the door to reveal the castle steward and Hope’s sister on the other side. They were in a passionate embrace, kissing.
“What are they doing?” said the boy, pointing at the couple.
“Nay, we’re not going out there.” Sir Rick slammed the door and looked around the room with the boy still tucked under his arm. For being stabbed and almost dying less than an hour ago, he acted and moved like he wasn’t even hurt at all. However, Hope did notice that his hand and his torso were wrapped with cloth bandages.
“My lord,” said Harold, opening the door and standing there, but not entering the room. “I apologize. I tried to stop the ladies from coming up to the tower, honest I did.”
“And we can all see how well that worked,” grumbled Sir Rick.
“Hello, Sir Rick. How are you feeling?” Lady Grace fixed the laces on her bodice and grinned. Her tongue shot out to touch her lips.
“Grace, what are you doing?” asked Hope, putting the book into her pouch and slinging the bag over her shoulder.
“Waiting for you,” answered her sister.
“I’m ready to leave now. Let’s go.”
“Not so fast,” said Sir Rick, reaching out with his free hand to stop her. The boy smiled at her from under Sir Rick’s arm. “I would have a word with you before you leave.”
“Me? A word?” Her hand flew to her chest. “Whatever about, Sir Rick?”
“I think you know damned well what I’m talking about.”
“Please don’t curse in the presence of women and children,” she retorted.
“Fine.” He put the boy down and Noah darted out the door. “Harold, please take the boy and Lady Grace down to the kitchen where they can’t get in any trouble.”
“Aye, my lord,” said Harold, taking Grace by the elbow. She blushed as he led her away, following Noah down the steep, winding stairs.
“I’d better go with them to make sure they behave.” Hope took one step toward the door but Sir Rick wrapped his long fingers around her arm and kept her from moving.
“I don’t think so.” With his foot, he closed the door, leaving them alone together in the sorcerer’s room.
Orrick wasn’t about to let the wench leave now. Not after she read the title of the book aloud and broke the spell. She was able to read the pages and this upset him tremendously. Could she have magic? And if she did, could Lord Irwin have magic, too? If so, they were going to be more of a problem than he’d anticipated.
“How is your wound?” she asked, reaching out for his bandage. He grabbed her hand in his.
“Why don’t you tell me who you really are and why you are so desperate to find the Eternal Flame.”
“I – I don’t know what you mean.” She wet her lips with her tongue in a nervous reaction, but it only drew attention to her mouth. Immediately, Orrick was once again thinking about kissing her.
“Sit down,” he said, pulling her over to the bed and all but throwing her atop it.
“On the bed?” She looked up with those curious, big eyes. “Isn’t this a little inappropriate?”
“You didn’t seem to have any qualms about sitting on the bed when you were reading the sorcerer’s book to the boy. By the way, you never did tell me where you got it.”
“The book?” she asked, her eyes traveling to her bag while her fingers caressed the soft leather of the pouch. “Orrick gave it to me. Before he left.”
“He did not.” Orrick crossed his arms and paced back and forth in front of her. “Now, I want the truth.”
“Oh, all right,” she said with a sigh. “I stole it when my sister distracted you earlier.”
“Hand it over.” His palm shot out and he waited for her to give him the book.
“But I haven’t had a chance to look at it yet.”
“You’ve seen enough. Let’s go.” He shook his hand just under her nose as he waited.
Her hand snaked into the bag as she sighed again. Holding the small book reverently with two hands, the tip of her finger traced the edged torch and flame on the cover. “What do you know about the Eternal Flame and the Keeper of the Flame?” she asked.
She caught him off guard and he didn’t know how to answer. “Why do you ask?” His hand slowly dropped to his side. “Why would you even think I know anything about it at all?”
“I’m sure your great-grandfather, Orrick, must have told you about it. After all, you are related.”
“He’s not my great-grandfather,” spat Orrick, not able to tell her the truth.
“If he’s not your grandfather and not your great-grandfather, then who is he to you? Perhaps some kind of uncle?” she asked, still holding the book and looking at him in question. “Or your father, even though he seems much to old?” she asked when he didn’t answer.
“It doesn’t matter and it’s none of your business.” He reached out and snatched the book away from her. When he did, his hand touched hers and a jolt of excitement buzzed through him.
Mayhap it was just from the fact he wasn’t used to the shapeshifting, or perhaps it was because he was tired from the swordfight, but his head dizzied and he had to reach out and hold on to the bedpost to keep from falling.
A fog encompassed his brain. Although his eyes were open, darkness covered his sight. First, he saw the smiling face of his late wife, Petronilla, and then he saw his younger self, sneaking into the guardian’s chamber to steal the Eternal Flame.
“You were never meant to be the Keeper,” growled a low, male voice in his ears that sounded a lot like that of the man who used to guard over the flame. “You need to make things right. Give the flame to the next guardian soon or it will be too late and your immortality will be naught but a curse.”
The pounding in Orrick’s head was overwhelming. His body became very heated and his heart raced, threatening to pound right out of his chest. His vision started to return, but was so blurred that he could barely see Hope sitting on the bed. Then he thought he heard her saying something, but his world spun and he could no longer stand. His knees buckled beneath him and he collapsed atop the bed. That was the last thing he remembered.
Chapter 7
“Sir Rick!” cried Hope, jumping up and catching his body just as he fell atop the bed. “You must be weak from your injury. Lie down and I’ll find a healer.”
“Nay,” he mumbled, sounding as if he were half-asleep. “Don’t leave me. Please. Promise me you won’t go. I don’t want to be alone.” He reached out for her and she took his cold hand in hers, not at all sure he wasn’t dying. His breathing seemed shallow and his eyes were closed.
“I won’t leave you,” she said, tears filling her eyes. She knew it was too much for him to be up and about. He’d acted as if the wound was nothing, but it must be worse than he was letting on. To see a hardened warrior crumble so easily was overwhelming. One minute he was strong and demanding and the next he was begging her not to go as if he were afraid. “I’ll be right here,” she assured him, reaching out and smoothing back his dark hair. He was a very handsome man. Not to me
ntion, he was a very good kisser. Hope felt an attraction to him, even though he was a stranger to her. She really knew nothing about him. He was so mysterious – just like that old sorcerer.
Not sure what she should do, she held his hand until he started snoring. Then, she figured she would check his wound before she went for help. She didn’t think anyone had stitched him up. If not, he was going to start bleeding again and his wound would never heal.
Reaching out, she lifted his tunic gently, eyeing up his taut stomach. There was a white strip of cloth wrapped around his torso but, oddly enough, it seemed loose. Still, there was no blood leaking from his incision. She pushed up the bandage to check his wound, thinking she had the wrong side when there was nothing there. She looked on his other side, but that wasn’t injured either. The only thing that said he’d been injured at all was a little dried blood on his skin and the bandage.
Having to know for sure, she reached out and touched him, feeling his skin, looking for the wound. His skin felt smooth beneath her fingers, and she let her hands trail higher. She couldn’t stop herself from running her hands over the muscles in his chest, wickedly enjoying touching him although he was sleeping.
Without even realizing it, a small moan of pleasure lodged at the back of her throat.
“You like that, my sweet angel, don’t you?”
She jerked her hands away in surprise and her gaze flew to his face. His eyes were half-open and he was looking right at her. He’d caught her at a very embarrassing moment. As her heart drummed in her ears, she wondered what she’d been thinking to touch him in this manner.
“I – I’m sorry,” she apologized, feeling mortified to be caught touching an injured man while he slept. It was improper behavior for anyone – especially a noblewoman. Then again, she reminded herself that it didn’t look at all as if he’d even been injured. She didn’t understand what was going on. “I saw Lord Irwin stab you in the side with his sword today,” she told him. “Yet, I can’t seem to find the incision.”
“I’m a fast healer,” he told her in a deep, sexy voice that sounded to her as if he were still half-asleep.
“Nay. You couldn’t have healed from that! Not that fast. Plus, you don’t even have stitches. How do you explain that?”
“It’s easy to mistake what you thought you saw.”
“Nay! I saw it, I know I did. Lord Irwin stabbed you, right after he nicked your hand. I saw the blood. I heard the sound of the blade piercing flesh.” She reached out and pulled the bandage off his hand to see that there were no nicks on his hand either. “I don’t understand this. How can it be?”
“Sometimes, my little bird, things are naught but an illusion. Our minds play tricks on us and we don’t know what to believe.”
“I suppose that could be true, but not in this instance.”
“Shhhh,” he said, reaching out and pressing his finger against her lips. “You always did talk too much.”
“I did?” She did tend to ramble on at times, but how did he know that? They’d only just met. Plus, he said did instead of do. This man confused her.
“Come to me, my love. Kiss me like you know you want to.”
That surprised her because she wasn’t expecting him to say that at all. She thought he was about to chastise her for touching him, or mayhap even punish her for stealing the sorcerer’s book. But something happened and he changed from being angry to being lovable in the matter of a blink of the eye.
“I – I don’t want to kiss you,” she lied. “I don’t know why you’d think I do.”
“Because, you are in love with me, sweetheart. Just as I am in love with you.”
“What?” Her heart almost stopped with the brash way he spoke to her. She reached out to slap him for being so bold as to say such things, but before she could, he pulled her into his arms. As she fell against his body, he pressed his lips to hers, making her forget everything but how good it felt to be in his embrace.
She didn’t mean to linger in his embrace, but she liked it all too much. Sir Rick made her feel alive like no man had ever done before. His hands slipped down her back as he kissed her. Then she felt the slight squeeze on her bottom end. She jerked in surprise, only managing to push herself up against his hardened form.
“My lord, I do not think we should continue this,” she said, still kissing him because she really didn’t want to stop.
“I understand you like playing hard to get, but there is no need for that, my love.” One of his hands snaked upward and his palm settled over her breast. With a sharp intake of breath, she pushed up off of him and when she did, he buried his face in her cleavage, kissing her there. Her body warmed at the feel of his hot breath on her chest. Then he caressed her breasts right through her clothes, his thumbs flicking over her nipples, causing them to go erect. Her back arched as she felt the heat between them getting stronger.
“Sir Rick . . . I . . . I . . .”
“Don’t pull away from me, Love.” His head moved closer and his tongue shot out, licking her cleavage as he pushed her breasts together, still fondling her. Suddenly, she felt like Grace, letting a man use his tongue in this manner. Her mind was muddled and she felt so naughty. Especially since she was betrothed to Lord Irwin . . . a man she truly despised.
“Oooh, oh my,” she said, her breathing becoming labored.
“If we’re going to make a baby, you need to remove some of this clothing.” In one motion, he yanked up her gown, scaring her to no end by what he said.
“Nay! Leave me alone.” She reached out and slapped his face, pushing away from him, getting off the bed.
“Petronilla, why are you acting this way?”
“What did you say?” Fixing her clothes, she suddenly realized Sir Rick was asleep and thought she was someone else.
He shook his head and his eyes opened wide, staring right at her. It frightened her and she ran for the door.
“Nay, where are you going?” he called out from behind her. “Don’t leave me. Please,” he begged, but she could no longer stay here with him.
Rushing from the room, she could no longer think straight and wondered just what in the world was happening. Mayhap she was going crazy, because none of this made any sense at all.
Orrick sat up in bed, seeing Lady Hope darting from the room. He vaguely remembered kissing her and fondling her, and fell back down groaning. He’d been dreaming about Petronilla, but now he realized his dream and his waking life had melded into one. He never should have looked into the gazing crystal because now he’d opened some kind of door to his past. He didn’t want to relive his past, and neither did he want to make the same mistakes in the present.
He wasn’t sure what happened, but he had a feeling that part of him thought Lady Hope was his late wife, Petronilla. He let out a deep breath and noticed something on the floor next to the bed. Sitting up to get a better look, he realized just what it was. Whatever he said must have scared her immensely, because she ran from his room so fast that she’d forgotten her pouch with the book in it about the Eternal Flame.
He chuckled to himself, picking up the bag, and opening the book to look inside. Sure enough, the spell had been broken. The words were there as plain as day for anyone to read. Well, that answered the question he had in the back of his mind. Lady Hope wasn’t at all who she pretended to be. Lady Hope was a witch of some sort, and now he would have to be extra careful because he wasn’t sure at all of what she was capable of doing.
Chapter 8
“Orrick, wake up!”
Orrick opened one sleepy eye to see Noah sitting on the edge of the bed staring at him. Orrick wasn’t one to sleep late, but he could see the sun streaming in from the partially opened shutter of the tower window and realized it was already well into the morning hours. He’d had a restless sleep and felt so tired that he could barely move. His body ached in every joint and his neck felt stiff.
“Noah, what are you doing here?” he asked, his voice sounding like he needed to clear it.
“Lord Corbett sent me to wake you up. He said Lady Hope was asking for you and he didn’t want her to come up to the tower.”
“Lady Hope,” he repeated, remembering what happened yesterday and wondering what he was going to do about it. He had a feeling he’d made some inappropriate moves with her and needed to apologize. “All right, let’s go.” He swung his legs over the side of the bed, yawning and stretching. Damn, he was tired. Where was all that energy he’d had yesterday when he fought Lord Irwin on the battlefield? It had felt so good to have a sword in his hand again instead of a wand. He missed the days of being a knight.
“You’re going to the great hall like that?” asked Noah, giggling.
“I suppose I should change my clothes.” Orrick scratched the side of his face. His hand stilled. Gone was the smooth skin of his cheek and instead he had a handful of hair that felt like more than just overnight stubble. “What the hell,” he mumbled, standing up, feeling a muscle twitch in his back. He looked over to the standing mirror and his mouth dropped open.
“You’re old again,” said Noah with a big smile.
“God’s teeth, I am.” He walked closer to the mirror to inspect his image. “What happened to me?”
Orrick had shapeshifted into his younger self yesterday but, for some reason, he shifted back to his old man form while he slept. He wasn’t sure why this happened, but he didn’t like it in the least.
“My old friend Orrick is back,” said Noah, jumping up and down and clapping his hands together in excitement.
“I’m not Orrick, your old friend. I’m your young friend, Sir Rick,” he grumbled, leaning in closer to the mirror to have a better look. “Or at least I thought I was.” He touched his eyebrow and then stroked his long, white beard.
“I like you this way better. It’s more fun,” said Noah from across the room.
Keeper of the Flame: Second in Command Series - Orrick Page 7