Maura piled freshly cooked venison on a plate, along with fresh baked bread, while Justin and Reena talked about the strides the village had made.
Maura finished the tray with several thick slices of soft cheese. “I can carry this to your chambers for you.”
Reena refused her offer with a shake of her head and reached out to take the tray. “That is not necessary. Stay and enjoy your time alone, I assume you both get little of it.”
Justin grinned. “Reena always sees what others did not—that is why her maps and drawings are so detailed and accurate.”
“I will take my leave now before my head swells with compliments. Enjoy the evening.” With that, Reena took her tray and left the couple cuddled together on the bench as they ate their meal.
Reena climbed the wooden stairs to her chambers. She wondered what was occupying Magnus this eve. They had become close in the last few weeks, working together in mapping the keep. She had come to know him as Magnus, separate from the Legend. He had a caring heart, and yet when necessary, he hardened his heart.
Had she done that when she had decided to seek help from the Legend? Had she put her fears aside and done what was good for the whole? Is that what a great leader did? But she was no great leader. She was a simple peasant lass with no great dreams or aspirations.
She simply wished to map and draw.
But did she not wish to love?
Seeing Justin and Maura, thinking of her father and mother, even seeing Thomas and how he looked at Brigid with such love and concern in his eyes, did she not want someone to care for her?
Magnus.
She shook her head. He was her lord, she in his service, but did they not share interests? Did they not enjoy mapping the keep together? Had they not shared interesting conversation? Had he not kissed her? And had she not wanted him to?
She shook her head again.
She was confused and concerned. Her mapping had occupied a good portion of her time and thoughts, and thoughts of loving Magnus continued to invade her mind. They were hard to ignore, try as she might. And the endless question—Could she be falling in love, and was falling in love with Lord Magnus a wise choice?—haunted her.
A few more steps and she would be in her chamber, where she could lock herself away from the world and think—nay, map. Her thoughts then would be heavily occupied and she would think no more on love and men and all such nonsense.
She opened the door to her bedchamber with a sigh of relief and stopped abruptly.
Magnus sat at a table laden with food. “Where have you been? I have waited for you.”
Chapter 18
Reena stood speechless at the open door. Magnus walked over to her, took the tray from her hand, and closed the door behind her.
“Where have you been?” he asked again.
“I thought to visit with Brigid, but she and Thomas are busy baking bread.”
He placed the tray on the table with the other foods. “Thomas bakes bread, does he?”
Reena was quick to defend the large man. “He keeps Brigid occupied so she does not overly worry about Kilkern. He is good to her and I see that he cares for her.”
He held a chair out for her to take a seat. “I think Brigid cares more than she realizes.”
Reena hung her cloak on the peg by the door and sat. “Her heart still hurts.”
“Thomas heals her heart and she will realize this soon enough. It took you time to see that your friend needed a strong yet gentle man like Thomas. He suits her well, unlike me.”
Reena was ready to disagree, but he prevented a reply.
“I have not an ounce of gentleness in me.”
Reena thought otherwise and with a hasty tongue let him know her thoughts. “That is not so—”
He would not allow her to finish, and this time his words chilled. “A man who can order the torture of others possesses no gentleness.”
Remembering the cold, dark belly of the keep, with its prison cells and torture chamber, gave her reason to pause and consider his words. She could not think of Magnus issuing such horrendous orders, but the Legend could, and the thought set her legs to trembling.
She chose to move away from the subject, giving herself time to reconcile the two men into one, if she ever could. “Your friend took his leave?”
“Aye, and I appreciate your discretion in the matter. Are you hungry?”
His hasty change of topic warned her he did not wish to discuss the Dark One. “I am hungry enough to eat all of this.”
He piled her plate high with an assortment of food. “I was thinking that the mapping of the keep is near done. Spring is but a mere three or four weeks away. As soon as the weather clears we should map my property. It may take a few days, but it is important that I am familiar with my land and the land that surrounds me.”
Reena felt a thrill of excitement at the prospect of mapping land once again. “A good thought, especially with Kilkern property being so close. It is important you know your boundaries.”
Magnus filled his own plate. “It is more important Kilkern knows his boundaries, though he feels he has none.”
“His boundaries are defined well enough.” Reena paused in taking a bite of her food. “If I may inquire? How did you come by Dunhurnal land? Land is either inherited or—”
“Granted for a favor done,” Magnus finished.
She wondered over the favor he had provided to the king to win him land. “If the king himself granted the land, how can Kilkern think to protest?”
“A foolish trick on his part.” Magnus poured them more wine.
“Do you know of this Brian Conor, earl of Dunhurnal? This keep was empty when my parents settled as tenants on Culberry land, and it has remained empty since that time. Gossipy tongues spoke of an earl who had taken ill and died leaving no heirs to inherit, so it remained vacant these many years.”
He shrugged as if he knew or cared little about the previous occupants, though his voice held conviction as he reached for a thick slice of dark bread. “I know the land is mine and it will remain mine. Kil-kern is angry that I robbed him of his tenants and land he feels is his, so he strikes out in blind vengeance. A mistake that will cost him dearly.”
“Do you feel he will attack the keep?”
“Nay, it will serve no purpose and only gain him the wrath of the king. He must make it appear that I took what was rightfully his, though my concern does remain for Brigid. He would not hesitate to use her to get revenge.”
“You speak as if you know him well.”
“I know his kind, but enough of Kilkern. There is a matter I wish to discuss with you.”
Reena grew attentive after taking a sip of her wine. She had grown to look forward to their discussions. They often talked well into the night, sitting before the fire in his solar, he talking of faraway lands and she asking for specific details. He had detailed a place so vividly once that she had drawn it for him. He was amazed at her accuracy, so she listened well now, eager to hear what he had to say.
He sat tall in his seat, his chest expanding the dark leather of his tunic and his features growing firm and intent in expression. “I wish you to pay close attention to what I have to say.”
The Legend spoke—she detected it in his commanding tone and the way his eyes focused directly on her. Here was the part of him she wished to capture on paper. The warrior intent on command, intimidating in stance and tone, and her drawing would reflect it all.
Her hands itched, her creative passion soared, and she could not contain herself. “Wait a moment.”
He looked startled when she jumped up and made a dash for her desk, quickly gathering paper and charcoal and returning with the same haste. She moved platters of food out of her way and positioned her drawing tablet on the table before her. With charcoal in hand and a steady eye on him she said, “You may continue.”
Her actions so surprised him that he could do nothing but stare. He had intended to remind her that she was to seek his permiss
ion before going anyplace on her own. His friend’s words had given him pause to consider that Reena’s mapping skills could place her at risk. She would know more of his lands, keeps and surrounding lands than anyone, making her vulnerable to his enemies. If they captured her, they captured a wealth of knowledge about him.
Her small hands flew across the paper, her eyes darting from him back to the tablet. It amazed him how quickly she could produce a drawing, of person or place it did not matter. Her hands and eyes appeared to work in coordination, and the results were a portrait or picture so remarkably detailed it appeared real.
He loved watching her in the throes of creation. She was intent on her task at hand, and she allowed nothing to disturb her. She would sometimes chew at her lower lip or wrinkle her small nose or squint her beautiful eyes as she paid strict heed to her work, leaving room for nothing but her art. Sometimes a strand of her long dark hair would repeatedly fall in her face, and she would tuck it behind her ear again and again, the stubborn strand refusing to stay put, much like Reena herself.
He reiterated his words. “You are to pay attention.”
“I can listen while I work,” she assured him, her hand busy creating sweeping lines and curves.
Magnus thought to argue, but it would do little good. He would have his say and make certain she understood, then he would look at her drawing, for he wished to see for himself how she viewed him.
“I wish you to remain close to the keep—”
Before he could finish, Reena spoke up, her drawing hand slowing until it stilled. “Why do you fear for my safety?”
He should have realized she would question him. She was the only one in his service who did and the only one he would tolerate doing so. When he issued a command, it was to be obeyed, not questioned. Not so Reena, but he had come to accept that about her. Her spark of challenge and adventure intrigued him and made her all the more appealing.
He was honest with her; he could be no other way, for she would haunt him with questions until she discovered the answers. “You are my mapmaker and therefore you hold certain knowledge that could benefit my enemies. It is wise of me to protect you.”
She borrowed his habit of a moment’s silent thought while considering the matter at hand. “That makes much sense and I understand your concern. I will make you aware of my whereabouts so you need not worry, and I will not foolishly venture off on my own.”
He’d thought she would argue with him, but then she was sensible. At least in certain matters she was sensible.
Her hand immediately returned to drawing, her eyes squinted, she chewed at her bottom lip, and Magnus knew she was lost in her work. He watched her engrossed in her drawing. He noticed a small beauty mark near her right ear and a faint scar at her hairline above her left eye. Her blue eyes reminded him of the sky on a crisp, clear day, and her lips did not quite match in size.
But what amazed him the most was the intensity she put into her drawings. He wondered if she even realized she possessed such a passion, such a driving force to create. Would that passion extend to lovemaking? Would she find it a work of art and pour her passion into it as much as she did with her drawings?
Of late he had thought much of intimacy with Reena. The innocent touches, the few shared kisses had made it necessary for him to address the emotions that were stirring in him. While sex had always been a driving force within him, a need, a want he could satisfy with any willing woman, now he found he wanted something different with Reena.
Did his need to protect her rise from that? Was love nipping heavily at his heels? The thought that she would suffer needlessly because she was his mapmaker did not sit well with him. Visions of the keep’s torture chamber weighed heavily on his mind and the mere thought that Reena would suffer for what knowledge she knew angered him.
“You will surrender any and all information asked of you concerning me if you are ever taken captive,” he said with a sudden firmness that startled Reena.
“I would not betray you.” Her own response was firm, yet soft.
“It is not about betrayal; it is about survival, and I wish you to survive.”
She stared at him, his words haunting her thoughts. Did he care for her? Did he worry over her safety? Or was she merely a servant worth more alive to him than dead?
“You will do as I say and not suffer because of me.”
She lowered her glance to the paper where she had sketched his face. She felt tears rush up to wet her eyes. She fought them like a warrior bent on pushing back advancing enemy troops, and she held them at bay.
“You suffer.” She barely whispered the words.
He looked confused and was about to shake his head when she held up the drawing tablet for him to see.
He was stunned silent, for there in his face she had captured not only his strength but also his weakness. While his features were cold and hard and portrayed him capable of any command, she had captured in his dark eyes the heaviness of his heart when difficult decisions needed to be made. There was his suffering, his anguish of doing what was necessary but not necessarily right. There was the war he fought within himself. Good and evil. He possessed both traits, and they warred within him like vengeful enemies.
He could not take his eyes off the drawing. It was as if he was able to see the two men in one that he had become.
The troubled look in his eyes and the unease with which he shifted in his seat had Reena reaching out to him. She placed her hand over his, and he instantly threaded his fingers with hers and clung tightly.
“You are a good man and help many.”
“For a price,” he reminded her. The feel of her warm, soft skin against his was more comforting than he cared to acknowledge—or was it the thought that she cared enough to offer comfort? He had known such caring once and had desperately missed it when it had been taken from him.
She moved her hand off his, and though she remained close he felt an empty ache fill his heart.
“And what price have you paid?” she asked.
He stared at her strangely.
“You have suffered, have you not?”
His anguish was his own, and he never spoke of it to anyone. Yet she knew. She had captured it in his eyes, and he could see it clearly in his portrait. It was as if she could look into his soul.
Someone dear to his heart had borne a heavy burden for him, and he would not see her do the same. He took hold of her arms, his fingers firm in her flesh. “You will not suffer for me. If captured you will give whatever information is asked of you.”
“Why? So those who impose the torture can torture me more? If I were to do as you say, your enemy would not believe I tell him all. I would be tortured regardless of what information I willingly or unwillingly gave.”
He shook his head, then rested his forehead on hers. “What am I to do with you? You are much too intelligent for your own good.”
Her answer came easily. “You are to trust me as I trust you, for I would not betray you, as I know you would not betray me.”
“You are so sure?” Magnus whispered.
“Aye, I have come to know you these many winter weeks we have shared mapping the keep, though I honestly admit it is you, Magnus, I have come to know. The Legend remains a mystery to me. I have had but a brief glance of him on occasion, and I know not of him what I know of you, and I wonder if he allows anyone to know him.”
He softened his hold on her. “It is best the Legend remains a mystery.”
“Why? Does he not feel lonely at times?”
“The Legend was born out of necessity and he does what he must.”
She moved away from him, his hands falling off her, but just before she moved out of his reach Magnus grabbed hold of her hand.
“Do you fear the Legend?”
Her nod was gentle as she approached him. “At times.”
“He would never hurt you.”
“Yet he has hurt others.” Her voice trembled in a whisper.
“When nece
ssary.” He stood and drew her to him. “Do not fear me.”
“I do not fear you, Magnus, but the Legend?” She shivered. “He puts the fear of the devil in men and women alike, and the cold dark metal of his helmet does not help, for it makes him appear unapproachable, impenetrable and emotionless.”
“He is a warrior.”
“He is a man,” she reminded.
“Aye, that he is,” Magnus agreed and slowly brought his lips down on hers to capture a much wanted kiss. He savored the taste of her and while he wanted, very much wanted, to feel her against him, he kept a safe distance. He did not trust himself, and she had just mentioned how she trusted him. He would not betray that trust. When they made love—and he was certain they would—it would be her choice.
He did, however, allow his hand to roam down her back, along her slim waist and over her hips, narrow but with a curve of definition that appealed to his male senses and caused him to swell with desire.
When finally their lips parted, she sighed and rubbed her cheek to his. “I am confused.”
“Why?” The simple act of her placing her cheek to his soared his passion, but he kept tight rein on it. How could such a simple and innocent gesture bring him so much pleasure? He had shared the gesture time and time again with many women, but never had he felt the rush of warmth and the hasty beating of his heart that he did when Reena so casually put her cheek to his.
“I thought you perfect for Brigid, then you began to—” She stared up at him, almost reluctant to admit her thought.
“What did I do, Reena?” he encouraged softly.
Her hesitation was brief. “You touched me and then kissed me and—”
“Made you feel.” He finished what she could not.
She nodded, then shook her head. “I do not even know what I feel.”
He took her chin in his hand and held it firm so that she would have to look at him. “Let yourself feel. Do not fight it.”
“I cannot fight it. It is there more often than not.”
He cupped her face in his hands. “I am glad to hear that.”
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