“Oh, I see. Indeed. ‘Tis uncanny how close you are to father’s smithy.” She rolled her eyes and turned back to Peyton. “Laird is correct, Sir Peyton. You do look weary. Go to your rest, and I’ll not pester you about the ball again. In fact, I’ll see to it that your love has a gown to make you proud. What color are her eyes?”
Peyton hesitated a moment as he wondered how to handle her offer and both she and the prince laughed as the prince said, “They must be most heavenly eyes, to make him moon over them like that. Or is it that you don’t remember, Sir Peyton? Surely you haven’t made this girl up just to keep the trolls at bay.”
Shaking his head one more time, Peyton said, “They’re blue. As blue as the velvet sky of evening.”
The princess sighed and Prince Laird nodded, “Poetic. I like that in a knight. It instills confidence in their rugged battle skills. And her figure? Dare we ask?”
Peyton flushed and the prince chuckled. “Apparently, we dare not. Just give us this. Is she taller or shorter than the troll here?”
“Taller. Several inches.”
“And heavier or more slender?”
Again Peyton hesitated and the prince chuckled and said, “Look at him, Clar. Torn between telling an untruth and offending a princess. He’s fair squirming, he is. ‘Tis that he thinks you’re fat. He’s simply too purely polite to say so.”
She hit him with her elbow and he made an exaggerated groan as Peyton said, “I’m certain she’s not so slender as you, Princess. Rest assured. In fact, she’s probably not nearly so in places.”
Again the prince grinned and laughed down at his sister and said, “What he means is she has a better figure as well. Isn’t that what you mean, Sir Peyton? Very discreetly put, by the way.”
Knowing he was burying himself, Peyton straightened and said, “Your figure is, in all ways, incomparable, Princess. Ignore your brother. Respectfully, of course. ‘Tis his responsibility to tease you. And alas, I think I should remove myself before Prince Laird here gets myself beheaded. You needn’t worry about the dress.” He dipped his head respectfully. “Goodnight, Your Highnesses.”
He turned to leave, but the princess called him back. As he turned, she said, “We truly will arrange for the dress. The both of us. He’ll help me. He’s got surprisingly good taste. Goodnight, Sir Peyton.”
When Peyton told Mordecai, who was resting on Peyton’s bunk at the garrison, what the prince had asked of him, Mordecai immediately swung his legs over the edge of the bed and went into a coughing spell. Concerned for his ill friend, Peyton asked, “What are you up to, Sir Knight?”
Grumbling under his breath, Mordecai said, “I’m getting my trousers on. What do you think? We’re going to check on Chantaya. I’ve near gone out of my mind for wondering if she made it home that night.”
Peyton was surprised and asked, “Now? You want to leave this evening?” Peyton shook his head. “You’re ill. Go back to bed.”
Mordecai only responded by lifting his breastplate into place and saying, “Don’t you speak to me thus, you young ingrate. You may be bigger. And stronger. But ‘tis that I’m more stubborn. Go get our horses. I’ll stop in the kitchen and get a bait of supper and meet you in the courtyard.”
For just a moment, Peyton felt he should argue, much as he didn’t want to. But then he decided that Mordecai probably truly couldn’t rest until he knew for himself that Chantaya was all right, and Peyton felt the same. Plus, taking advantage of the current break in the storm made sense. Moreover, when they got to Rosskeene Manor, they’d need to check on her under the cover of darkness anyway. After considering all of this while Mordecai continued to dress, when the old man looked askance of him, Peyton ultimately smiled and turned for the door. “I’ll get the horses.”
Chapter 15
Chantaya put the last supper dish away and then sniffled as she looked round the kitchen, wondering if it would be acceptable to sweep the next morning, instead of last thing at night as they typically did. She was as tired tonight as she’d been immediately after her rainy night ride a day and a half ago and the cut on her ribs seemed loath to heal. It had scabbed over, but even with her mother’s nasty salve, every time she changed the bandage, the scabs ripped off and bled. That made it still ridiculously sore. At least the wound on her shoulder was finally staying clean and dry.
Cook looked at her sympathetically as she lifted a hand to brush across Chantaya’s damp forehead and said, “We’re going to let the rest of it go, young Chantaya. Your mother took care of most of it earlier and the master’s gone anyway. What do we care if Lady Winifred fusses? Get yourself off to bed. ‘Tis the best thing for a touch of the weather like ye have. Come. I’ll walk with you, in case that young lord gets any ideas into his head.”
Gratefully, Chantaya nodded. Bed sounded positively divine just now. Together they walked to the stable and then Cook turned back around to go to her own room when Isabella stood from where she and Conrad had been pouring over a book at the table near their door. Gently, her mother felt Chantaya’s head and then shook her own and said, “You’re warm, daughter. And your nose is red from running. Go to bed and I’ll bring you some heated rocks in a moment.”
Again, Chantaya nodded. They would get no argument from her. She was still tired from her ride. As she passed by Conrad, she dropped a friendly hand to his shoulder and asked, “Are the new horses fitting in, then? They seem to be well.”
“They’re well. And fine pieces of horseflesh. I imagine when the master returns, he’ll insist they belong to him since they showed up here that morning. They’re as fine as any horse in his stables.”
She gave him a tired smile. “I think they’re yours. You’re the one who found them and took care of them. They must have known what a soft heart you are.” She leaned and kissed his cheek gently. “Goodnight, Conrad. Goodnight, Mother.” She yawned and noticed it made her throat ache and she added sleepily, “I do love you both.”
Once she was inside and had shut the door, Conrad’s eyes met Isabella’s and they smiled. Chantaya was weary and sick enough to be just a touch out of it this evening.
‘Twas late. Her mother was long asleep in the bed beside her when a soft knock came at the door. Chantaya stood tiredly, threw on a warm wrapper and then paused to call out, “Who’s there?” Conrad’s voice reassured her and she opened the door and then couldn’t help the tears that flooded into her eyes as she saw both Peyton and Mordecai standing beside Conrad in the near darkness of the stable.
She instantly stepped out and wrapped one arm around each of them and then felt foolish when all she wanted to do was hold on and cry. The incidents of the past days, and even how weak this cold caused her to feel made her incredibly emotional about the two of them.
For several moments, no one said anything, and then at length, Conrad said, “I’ll bring some blankets so you can visit on the bench here without disturbing her mother. And Sir Mordecai, you look to be in about the same shape she’s in. Could I interest you in a bunk in my own room then? There be four beds and just m’self livin’ in there now. So, there’s one for you as well, Sir Peyton. For as long as you can stay with us. No one ever goes in there but me. ‘Tis lonely at times, but ever private.”
The knights nodded and Mordecai said, “We would be forever in your debt, sir. Lead the way. 'Twas that we needed to know she was safe before we could stop for the night.”
“I understand. Especially after what she told us of that even. Follow me.” At the door to his room, Conrad showed them where to sleep and then asked, “Do your horses need looking after?”
Mordecai tiredly shook his head. “No. We left them safe in the wood. They’ll be fine until morning. But thank you.”
Before he turned to go in search of more blankets, Conrad said, “No. Thank you, Sir Mordecai. She wouldn’t say much of the other night except that God sent you in the nick of time. And we are grateful, her mother and I. She’s become like a daughter to me. To most all of us here. Thank you. The wh
ole kingdom thanks you.” He touched Chantaya on her tear wet cheek. “Thank God for you, Sir. For showing up in the nick of time.”
Weepier than ever, Chantaya hugged Mordecai one more time and then took Peyton’s big hand and led him back to the bench Conrad had indicated. She literally climbed onto his lap to snuggle into his neck. They’d no sooner gotten settled than she began to sniffle and then to cough several times in a row. It made the wound on her ribs ache terribly, but she couldn’t put a hand there to hold it with Peyton watching.
He looked down at her in concern anyway and pulled her closer and said, “You sound just as Mordecai. He got your same draught that night. Do you feel as miserable as you sound?”
She shook her head against him and whispered, “I have never felt better, Peyton Wolfgar.” She struggled to contain her tears and repeated, “Never better. I’ve missed you, Pey. I’m trying to be strong. And patient. But sometimes, especially such as tonight, when I’m fair sick and whiny, I miss you desperately. Seeing you there was as . . . ” The tears came into her voice again. “And seeing Mordecai, as well. Oh, ’tis that I’ve wondered if he got through and if you both were safe. I both hoped and feared you were in battle. I’ve prayed for you over and over. I thank God you’re safe. That you’re both safe. I love you, Peyton.”
He smiled tiredly at her, wiped at her tears and leaned to kiss her gently. “I love you too, Chani. I’m so proud of you. And incredibly frustrated. I’m sorry you’re ill because of your ride. What did he mean that Mordecai came just in the nick of time?”
Chantaya stilled, trying to put the images out of her head and wondering what to tell him. She said simply, “‘Twas cold, and dark. I was frightened. I wasn’t sure how long I could go on. But he came. I’ve never in my life been so grateful for anything.”
He pulled her more securely to him and said, “But it’s over now. And God willing, this whole mess will be over and ’tis soon you’ll be back at my side. Where I can see you and hold you. Hear you laugh and smell your sweet skin.” He paused and kissed her slowly one more time. “Where I can kiss you. And touch you. And know you’re real and not part of my dreams born of desire and a warrior’s moon. Where I can be certain you are safe and watched over.”
She looked up at him in sleepy confusion. “But Peyton, even if I leave Rosskeene Manor. You’ll still be in Valais and I in Navarre. How can you touch me? And kiss me?”
Shaking his head, he leaned his cheek against her hair and whispered huskily, “No, my love. The time’s past for that. I can’t live like this anymore. We can’t. Either I must come home, or you must come to Valais. I can’t live without you. I miss you, and not knowing if you’re safe is the purest hell. My spirit is suffocating without you.”
She looked up and into his eyes and all the worry and fear and loneliness in her heart seemed to fade. They were going to get through this. She could see its truth there in the warm liquid fire of his brown eyes. There was a fairytale ending waiting, if they could just endure for a short while longer. They were going to make it. Soon.
Snuggling back into his warm, strong chest, she said, “You are a knight of the kingdom. My knight. You can’t leave your duties. As soon as I can, I’ll come to you.” She yawned, and closed her eyes as she moved even closer to him. “Just as soon as the magistrate rules. I shall come. I love you, Sir Peyton.”
SSSS
Occasionally, she coughed in her sleep and would put a hand to her ribcage when she did as if it hurt. She ranged from shivering to sweating with her fever, and at times, there was a strange concern in her countenance that made him worry. Peyton was nearly as tired as she seemed to be, but still, he wasn’t willing to let go of her just for the sake of rest. ‘Twas heaven to hold her there on the bench in her stable and know of a certainty, for once, that she was safe and whole and at peace.
He dozed between her coughing spells. They seemed to be less frequent and he hoped that just his being there and holding her would strengthen her and help make her well. It certainly strengthened him.
Always, she had been that way for him. From that very first frightful stormy night when her father was killed, helping her had somehow made him stronger and brought a need to take care of her and protect her. Ever it had been so. He leaned and gently kissed her warm temple and closed his eyes again. How he loved this sweet, spirited, young beauty.
Toward morning, the candle on the nearby table guttered low and as the sky outside the doors just began to lighten, he gently lifted her and carefully took her back to her bed and tucked her in beside her still sleeping mother. He would have liked to continue to hold her forever, but he needed to get out of sight before the stable woke to its chores. As he retired to his own bunk in Conrad’s room, he wished Chantaya would be able to take a day or two to heal her body from its sickness instead of having to return to her kitchen. So much would change when they married.
SSSS
When she woke, just for a moment, she thought she’d dreamed Peyton had come, and Mordecai. But then she could smell him, and realized she was in bed still wearing her wrapper and knew it hadn’t been a dream. He’d been there. Holding her, and kissing her and telling her he couldn’t live without her. She sat up, wondering if he was still there somewhere, or if he’d had to go.
As she rose, she was incredibly light headed. Her mother came to her and gently pushed her back down into the bed, and said, “Stay in bed this morning, Chantaya. I’ve spoken with Cook and she and I will manage without you. The master is still gone and we’ll be fine while you rest.”
Lying back, she gave her mother a tired smile. “He came. He and Mordecai both came.” She closed her eyes and sighed. “He smelled so good, Mum. He still smells the same, even if he is a knight now.” She opened her eyes back up and asked, “Is he gone? Did they leave in the night? He was so tired. But he held me instead of sleeping. I hope he’s not always that tired. Is he gone?”
Isabella shook her head. “No, daughter. He’s still here. Both he and Mordecai are sleeping like the dead in Conrad’s room. Mordecai sounds to be as ill as you. Perhaps he’ll sleep the day through here. Rest now, and after I’ve fed the family, I’ll bring you some chamomile tea.”
Turning over and pushing her hair away from her face, Chantaya said in a tired voice, “Thank you, Mother. Don’t go alone, will you? Have Conrad see you over and make sure Cook is at hand. Even with the master gone, Damian is there.”
Soothingly, Isabella answered, “I’ll be fine. You rest. Conrad will be nearby somewhere.”
Still weary, Chantaya asked, “Do you think he loves you, Mum? Conrad?”
Smiling almost tenderly, Isabella nodded. “I do think so, Chantaya. He loves us both. As we love him. He’s been a blessing to us here.”
Chantaya sighed, “I do love him. He’s so good to you. Do you think you could ever marry again, Mother? After losing Papa?”
“Perhaps.”
Chantaya nodded and closed her eyes, but then struggled to open them back up and said, “Please ask Peyton not to leave without telling me goodbye, Mother.”
SSSS
Isabella brought tea, but Peyton was the only one awake enough to drink any of it. It made him homesick to visit with her as he ate. How long it had been since he’d visited either her or his own mother like this.
Once he had eaten, Isabella made sure the stable was empty and then he stepped across to Chantaya’s room to speak to her before slipping away to check with the farmers and tenants as the prince had requested. Chantaya was still sleeping, but on Isabella’s urging, he gently woke her and spent a heavenly few minutes sitting beside her, enjoying how pretty she was all tousled and sleepy. She was a beautiful girl, but never so much as just now when she seemed so vulnerable and fragile. ‘Twas all he could do to make himself kiss her goodbye and leave her.
After dark that evening, he once again slipped into the dimly lit stable. This time, Chantaya was awake and dressed and looking like she felt much better than she had earlier, although th
at same sad shadow still hung at the back of her eyes at times. As strange as it felt to visit her in her room, he stayed there with her, with Isabella’s blessing, because they wanted no one to see them and didn’t want to chance making Chantaya more ill by visiting out in the chill of the autumn evening air.
He held her again, this time in a worn padded chair someone had salvaged when the manor had discarded it. ‘Twas incredibly sweet to be there with her for the balance of the evening, talking and planning. Sometimes kissing and sometimes doing absolutely nothing but being together. Chantaya was still ill and not feeling energetic, so it was wonderfully refreshing to know Peyton didn’t have to rush back to Valais this time as they let Mordecai recuperate as well under Isabella’s care.
When they could tell Isabella was tired and wanted to come in and go to bed, Peyton broached the subject of the masquerade ball, and although Chantaya’s eyes lit up, she hesitated for a moment and then said, “I’d love to attend a real royal ball in a lovely gown, Peyton, but there’s just no way we could manage it, even if the princess could find me a dress. How could I get the time away from the kitchen? Or get there? And even with something over my face, wouldn’t Rosskeene recognize me?”
Peyton listened to all her concerns, but then only smiled and repeated what the prince had said, “Sweet Chantaya, I truly believe that a girl who can save a kingdom can find a way.” He stood and pulled her into his arms and added, “Please, let’s at least try, Chani. I’ll come get you and bring you back. I should truly love to have you there with me. To hold you and dance the night away with you. ‘Twould be a dream come true. I’ll help you. We’ll figure it out. I’ll come back here on Thursday next to take you if you can go. Please say you’ll at the least give it some thought.”
She looked into his eyes and gave him her sweet, spirited smile and assured him, “I shall do everything in my power to attend the ball with you, Sir Peyton. ‘Tis that you are right. We’ll figure it out.”
Warrior's Moon A Love Story Page 21