Warrior's Moon A Love Story

by Jaclyn Hawkes

  She nodded, “I’m well, thanks.” He met her eyes and knew she understood he would have liked to comfort her and baby her more than he was. He reached across and squeezed her knee and then gave her another long look before he started on again.

  They were not far from the outskirts of a town when Peyton realized there were some horsemen waiting at a crossroad up ahead in the dark. As they neared, he counted four of them and without his even having to say anything, Chantaya dropped back from where she rode beside him and Matthew came abreast of him. She drew her sword as she moved back, as did the others and Peyton cursed silently as he raised his shield to think he’d gotten Chantaya into such a situation. Four highwaymen. He’d been a fool to agree to let her ride without more riders. Still, there were only four of them.

  As they pulled abreast of the waiting men, one stepped out, effectively stopping all their horses and Peyton threw his cloak back off of his shoulders so he could be free of any restraint. The pale starlight glinted off his armor and the man in front of him slowed as the other three murmured something, but then the man in front said, “Halt there!”

  Suddenly feeling a slow burning anger start in his belly, Peyton ground out, “What do you want? We’ve no time for this.”

  The man only gave a humorless laugh as three other men walked their horses out of the shadows to the left of the roadway. Harshly, the man said, “You’ll find the time. Give us your coin or we’ll bleed you out here and now.”

  Truly angry now, Peyton knew there was no way to avoid a battle and snarled, “We’ll give you nothing, thieves!” Without pause, he plunged his charger forward and in one great sweep, slashed at the man’s throat and continued on toward the others as he saw his men leap their horses forward as well. Behind him, he heard Chantaya’s horse rear and neigh and then he was into the thick of the fight, slashing right and left with his sword, silently willing Chantaya to keep out of it.

  ‘Twas over in but a matter of moments, although it seemed longer because he’d been so involved. When the last man near him was down, he spun his horse to see where else there was an enemy waiting and in a single glance, he took in the fact that all were vanquished except the lone man who had gotten around him and his men and now stood toe to toe in front of Chantaya. She was off her horse and had thrown off her cloak and was locked in the intense, deadly dance of a swordfight. Shaun was just several strides from them and for an instant, the scene before Peyton appeared to slow to a surreal pace as Chantaya expertly parried the thief’s blade once, twice, thrice.

  At last, Shaun reached them and thrust his own blade. The last thief fell.

  Chantaya lowered her weapon and for a long moment appeared utterly dejected, but then, as Peyton slid his horse to a stop in front of her and leaped to the ground, she turned and buried her face in his chest and began to cry. He had to ask if she had been hurt several times before she shook her head against him, and then he held her to him and stroked her back, assuring her over and over that they would be all right and that the danger was past.

  After several moments, when she began to pull herself together, he looked up to see Matthew and the others watching the two of them, Matthew grinning, and Shaun with a look of profound confusion. At that moment, her hat brushed off and her silken, sable curls slid free of their twist. They tumbled down her back and Shaun actually recoiled in his surprise and near tripped over the body of the thief in front of them.

  Peyton finally felt a hint of a smile break through the gut wrenching angst he’d been feeling, looked all around at the needless carnage and motioned to Matthew as he picked up her cloak and draped it round her shoulders. “Bring her horse. Let’s get her out of here. I should have made her ride in a carriage.”

  Shaun was still in apparent shock as she twisted her hair back up and replaced her hat, and Peyton had to nearly snap at him, “Shaun! Mount up! We must away! She needs rest. She shouldn’t have had to see that. Come.”

  Matthew brought her horse as Peyton gave her one last long embrace and then let her step into his hands to mount. When they were all aboard, Peyton lead off at a high gallop with her horse running close at his side. He glanced sideways at her, noticing how gracefully she rode and once again, berated himself for letting her ride with them through the night and not hiring more outriders. It had been a fool’s decision. He should never have let her sweet smile influence him to give in. He looked all around them into the dark, wishing they were closer to Valais. At least in the city there would be patrols of other soldiers. They’d be safer there.

  SSSS

  This ride had been such a range of differing emotions that Chantaya had become more than a little exhausted long before their encounter with the band of highwaymen. After starting with the simple joy of being with Peyton again, she’d gone then to indignation at Peyton’s upstart squire, to physically overdone, to remembering her fear of the last ride at the sight of that dark grouping of horsemen. Now she had graduated through relief, to plain and simple fatigue that threatened to overwhelm her as the memories of the last ride through the dark of night and thieves descended with a vengeance.

  She was cold, and tired, and had felt the exact moment when the slice on her ribs from that last horrible swordfight tore through the old scab and stitches as she fought. Even now, she could feel the cool drip of her blood as it soaked through her borrowed shirt at the back, chilling her further still and only reinforcing the nightmarish memories of that freezing, awful ride.

  The men could have this life. ‘Twas far too harsh an existence for her to ever wish it upon herself. She shook her head and glanced to her side at Peyton to bring some of the reassurance his presence always brought her. His was an incredible gift. Even in the midst of this conflict, and outnumbered, she had known in her heart that all would be well with Peyton near. The only reason she’d succumbed to her tears was the sickening memory the fight brought on of having to kill the swordsman the week before.

  By sheer force of will, she straightened her shoulders and tried to absorb some of the shock of her horse’s gait with her knees to ease her tired back. She truly loved the freedom of riding occasionally, but some of her rather intimate parts got tender after hours and hours. The idea of that carriage was sounding more and more tempting.

  At long length, when their horses clip clopped across a river bridge, bringing them at last into the outskirts of Valais, Peyton pulled up and gently insisted she get on his horse behind him. She had begun to cough again and her throat was aching. She got off of her own mount and onto his in mute gratitude. The thought of snuggling up to the warm strength of his back sounded fair heavenly. She was indeed tired.

  Some miles inside the city, Peyton pulled the horses to a stop behind a dark and quiet house, and said, “This house belongs to the prince’s distant cousin or some such, but he doesn’t stay here much and the prince has kindly offered it to us for you.” He helped her slide off and then dismounted himself and wrapped a strong arm round her waist to all but carry her inside as Shaun and the others took the horses. Matthew came inside with them and began to light the fires that had been laid and ready as she looked all around while Peyton dug into cupboards in the kitchen. He brought bread and cheese and mulled cider and handed it to her to warm over the fire.

  As tired as she was, she said little as she watched and sipped the cider. After a few minutes, Peyton said, “I’ll go retrieve your things from your saddle. Stay here with Matthew.” He went out the door and she glanced up at his Matthew and caught him watching her with an easy smile. Peyton came straight back in with her bag and the other three with him saying, “They’ve brought your things.” Peyton smiled. “Seems Shaun’s far more patient with having you tagging along, now he’s realized you’re not truly a stable hand. Gentlemen, may I present to you, Miss Chantaya Kincraig.”

  Almost penitently, Shaun approached her and bowed. “Please. I beg your forgiveness, Miss Chantaya. I had no idea. Please accept my apologies. Both for being less than welcoming, and for questi
oning your fencing skills. I was a fool.”

  Chantaya gave him a wan smile and patted his arm. “You are quite forgiven, Sir. Please forgive me for my masquerade as well. We didn’t intend to insult you. And thank you for saving me tonight. ‘Tis certain I couldn’t have held him off much longer.”

  Matthew smiled and interjected, “Oh, I don’t know. You appeared to be doing quite well from where I was. We thought he was merely jesting when he said you were skilled. Pray, tell, where and when did you learn to fence and ride thus? You could best many of those in the king’s military.” He bowed before her as well and reached for her hand. “He told us you were a rare beauty. ‘Tis that he doesn’t tell an untruth. Please, m’lady, pray forgive us for ever putting you in such a compromising situation. ‘Twill not happen again, I swear it.” The others nodded in agreement.

  She shook her head and said, “Kind sir, ‘twas not your fault we were set upon by such men. You needn’t apologize. Especially not when you’ve just ridden all night on my behalf. I thank you. I thank all of you. And I thank you for keeping Peyton all in one piece these months as well. I am in your debt.”

  Matthew smiled back and said drily, “'Tis no great feat. He typically has the foe beaten and contained before any of the rest of us even get a crack at them. He’s a hard one to keep up with, he is. ‘Tis a good thing he’s so blasted friendly, or the rest of us would resent him terribly.”

  Peyton only rolled his eyes and said, “Don’t listen to him, Chani. His is the silver tongue amongst us. May I take your cloak? Are you warming up yet?”

  She nodded and then admitted hesitantly, “I’m warm, but . . . This apparel. ‘Tis not truly modest. Even Conrad lectured me about being seen in trousers. I can only imagine the talking-to you’ll spout at me, Peyton. I mean Sir Peyton.”

  Shaun waved a casual hand. “Ignore any lecturing, m’lady. One who can fence with such prowess, needn’t worry about mere trousers.” He slipped the cloak from her shoulders and turned aside to drape it over a nearby chair and assured, “Here, you’re among friends. No worries.”

  Stretching her hands once more toward the fire, she sighed tiredly and then coughed. Looking around, she was wondering where she was to sleep when she saw Matthew nudge Peyton. They were looking at her back and she twisted to see what they were looking at and then winced with the movement. She sighed even more deeply as Peyton near shouted, “Chani! You’re all bloody! Your back! You were wounded!”

  As he strode toward her, she put out her hands and tried to calm him. “No. No, Peyton. I wasn’t wounded. I’m fine. It’s from before. It’s old. It just broke open with the fencing. I’m well. I swear it.”

  He paused mid step in confusion. “What?” Glancing around at her back again, he said, “But Chani, that’s a lot of blood. How? What?” His voice raised a notch. “Who did this to you? Was it Rosskeene? His son? They’ll hang! I’ll see them both hang! What do you mean, it’s old?”

  Chantaya looked at him and then at the others and back at him and sighed a third time. “Pey. Peyton, I . . . Peyton, could we discuss this in the morning? I’m fair exhausted this night. I’m truly not up to this.”

  “Up to what? What aren’t you up to?”

  Matthew cleared his throat and said, “I fear those horses need looking in on. I’ll just head out to ensure they are secure for the even. Maybe you could help me check them, gentlemen. Could I trouble you?”

  Nodding, Shaun said, “Of a surety, Matthew. I was just thinking I should look in on them one more time before turning in.”

  The others left the room and Peyton turned back to her grimly as he stepped closer and pulled the tail of her borrowed shirt free of the trousers and began to lift it. She yanked it back down and said, “Peyton! What are you doing?”

  “It’s me or one of them, Chani. Or we’ll send for a physician. Someone needs to look at it. You choose. From the volume of blood, the physician is probably the correct choice. What happened? Was it Rosskeene?”

  “No.”

  “Then who? His son?”

  “No.” He went to pull the shirt up again and she shook her head. Pausing with the shirt half lifted, he looked directly at her and said, “Then who? Tell me, Chani. The truth.”

  Finally, she simply decided to refuse. “No, Peyton. I’m not going to tell you, so you needn’t ask.”

  He looked up in surprise. “What do you mean? Of course you’ll tell me. You tell me everything. We have no secrets.”

  She shook her head. “We do now.”

  “Chani, we’re to be married. We’re closer than anyone I know. We’ve never kept secrets. Why are you doing this?”

  “Because . . . Because . . . ‘Tis better that I should. Just trust me, Peyton. Please. Trust me on this. I’ll tell you someday. You have my word.”

  He looked at her hard for a long moment, then shook his head and picked back up the shirt tail. “Let me look at it, Chani. We need to stop the bleedi . . . Great thundering Methuselah! Chani! Chantaya Isabella Kincraig! This is a huge slice! It’s been stitched! What in . . . ” He looked at her in horrified surprise as tears seeped into her eyes and he asked softly, “Is this what I think it is?”

  She turned away and brushed sadly at the tears and said, “Don’t ask me, Pey. Just don’t ask. Just don’t.” She whispered almost inaudibly, “Please.”

  Taking her by both arms, he turned her back to face him and ever so gently wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to him. Tenderly, he said, “Oh, Chani. My love. ‘Tis all right. ‘Tis all right for us to love each other enough to share even the ugliest of this life. You can tell me. Never feel like you can’t tell me. You needn’t shoulder it alone. I’m strong enough even for this. I’m so sorry. So sorry.”

  He tenderly pressed a kiss to her forehead and she closed her eyes and let the tears come, but then she swallowed and said, “You are strong enough, Peyton. I’m not. Not yet. I will tell you. Later. Right now, I can’t face it.” She looked up at him, feeling the heartbreak of the situation they were in and repeated, “Later. Soon. As soon as we’re together and this mess with Rosskeene is over.”

  He nodded and pulled her close again. “All right, love. All right. Soon. Don’t worry about it tonight. Tonight, we’ll just pull it closed again as best we can, and bandage it and try to get it healing. Let me go get some bandages out of my bags.”

  She shook her head. “In a moment, Pey. Can you just hold me for a time?”

  Pulling her tighter still, he whispered, “For forever, Chantaya. Only for forever.”

  Chapter 17

  When she awoke the next morning, the sun was high in the sky and someone had brought her a tub and filled it with steaming water. Whoever it was had even left her soap and a vial of scented oil behind the dressing screen there. Sitting up, she tried not to groan at how stiff she was from riding. She gingerly stretched to determine whether the wound on her ribs was sticking to her bed clothing again. Peyton had bandaged it, but it tended to break open whenever she changed. She was hoping to be able to make it through this ball without bleeding on the ball gown.

  Arising, she stepped behind the screen and began to undress and then was surprised when there came a knock at the door and it opened a crack. Just as she was beginning to scramble back into her clothes, a feminine voice said, “May I come in, Miss? Sir Peyton asked me to bring ya these. ‘E sent for some lovely new things for ya.” She smiled across at Chantaya and then advanced into the room as she continued, “’E said he wanted you to feel like the princess herself, ‘e did. I be Emma, miss. But you can call me Emmy. Everyone else does. I’ve been sent to assist ya.”

  She set a parcel down and began to unwrap it as she said, “’E didn’t actually buy these things, mind you. Said ‘e hadn’t the slightest thought about what you’d need. Just tried to describe what size ya was. That was an adventure, I can tell ya. E asked Shaun’s sister to help him, but ‘twas ‘is idea. ‘Tis right sweet of ‘im, I think. Don’t you miss?”

  Hesitant
ly, Chantaya nodded, “Yes, sweet indeed.”

  “Here be the under things and some slippers, and I’ll be right back with the dress and hat. I’ll just hang them on the screen there. Oh, and ‘e said to tell you there would be a bite for ya to eat and then a carriage here to take ya to have your gown fitted at one o’clock, or there abouts, miss. That’s about another hour. And will ya need help with doin’ your hair? I often help with the ladies’ hair here.”

  Suddenly worried about how she would wear her hair, Chantaya frowned and then said, “That would be very nice, thank you.”

  “Well, good then. I’ll be back in ‘alf the hour or so to help ya. If you need anything else, just let me know.”

  “Actually, if you wouldn’t mind, Emmy. I could use some help here.” Chantaya came out from behind the screen toward the diminutive maid. “My chemise is quite stuck here in this nasty scab where it has soaked through the bandage. I’m trying to keep it from opening and bleeding again. Could you loosen it, possibly? Would you mind? I know it’s quite unpleasant. I’m so sorry.”

  Emmy bent to begin to free the fabric, gasped and said, “My laws, Miss. You’ve . . . You’ve got a . . . My gracious, but that’s a large wound. I can’t seem to loosen it. There, oh, I’m so sorry, Miss. The whole bandage has slipped rather than coming free of the blouse. We’ll have to rewrap it. And it’s begun to bleed again. My laws, however did ya acquire such a slice, Miss? If you don’t mind my asking?”

  Chantaya worked not to groan and said, “You don’t want to know, Emmy. Trust me. Thank you so much for your help. I was having such a hard time by myself. Thank you. And would you mind finding Sir Peyton and asking for some clean bandaging?”

  “Not at all, Miss. I’ll go right away. You’re sure you’ll be all right by yourself?”

  Chantaya nodded and the big eyed maid left. Chantaya hated to even let anyone see that, but she needed to be able to get her clothes off without ripping it wide open as well. She let out a breath as she slipped into the sweetly scented bath and decided to do just what she had been doing for ten days now. Try to ignore the wound and the reason for it and get on with the stuff of life without bothering about it. After all, tonight she was to go to a royal ball. Not one peasant in a thousand got a chance like that. And if she could contain her nerves, she was going to enjoy every moment of it.