A Tavern Wench to Bed
Page 15
Henry nodded.
She opened the door and saw Thomas jump up from a chair. “Can I get you something, milady?”
“Please inform Sir Ware that his brother is awake.” She moved aside slightly to let Thomas see for himself.
“Right away, milady.”
She returned to the bed.
“Sit,” Henry patted the spot next to him.
“Do you promise to lay still and get more rest?”
“You won’t leave, even if Ware asks you to?”
She sat where he asked and took her hand into his lap. “He wouldn’t dare.”
“I can confirm that,” Sir Ware said as he walked across the room. “This seems a familiar habit, Henry.”
“I do seem to be fated to have Tulanes always trying to murder me.” Henry’s laugh turned to another cough.
Sorcha moved to get his cup of wine, but Ware put a hand on her shoulder to stop her. “I’ll get it.”
“Lord Uther has tried to kill you before?” She asked after he took a drink.
“His father, remember I told you. Stuck a knife in my back when I tried stopping him from kidnapping Lady Irisa.”
“Sir Ware’s wife, yes of course.” Sorcha looked to Sir Ware.
“She wasn’t at the time, but yes. Irisa was betrothed to Elan Tulane, and then we found out Elan was plotting to take over her father and her uncle’s lands by starting a war between them. I was winded from a fall and Henry went after Irisa. When I came to, I went to Henry first, knowing Elan wanted to marry Irisa, not kill her. So there’s Henry, lying as he is now, with a near mortal wound, telling me if I don’t get going to save Irisa, he was going to her rescue and keep her for himself.”
“Oh?” Sorcha smiled watching Henry cringe from his brother’s informative story.
“It was a joke,” Henry exclaimed.
“You should know now, Sorcha, Henry is always getting himself in the thick of things. He wreaks havoc with a person’s patience.”
“I’m a very tolerant woman, Sir Ware.” She brushed locks of hair from Henry’s forehead. “I am also persistent, demanding and determined. I have every intention off holding you to the bargain you made.”
Sir Ware smiled and gave a nod of his head. “You’ve held up your end of the deal, have no worry I won’t do my part.” He looked at Henry. “You better heal quickly so you don’t miss the tournament at Lindhurst.”
“I think I’ll have to pass on that one.” Henry scooted up against the headboard.
“No you won’t. I’m competing.” Ware walked for the door.
“What do you mean you’re competing?” Henry asked, apparently not recalling in his delirium he had commented that she’d win.
Ware left the room. “Do you know what he’s talking about? Why is he competing? He didn’t challenge Uther to seek revenge did he?” He moved to get off the bed. “I have to stop him. He’s not been in a tournament for years. He’ll get hurt, or even killed.”
She pushed him back against the pillow. “Relax, Henry.”
She had felt the love between the brothers each time they had spoken of the other, and it brought tears to her eyes. They knew each other so well, and yet, one little fact nagged at her since hearing it twice. Metta and Sir Ware both mentioned Henry’s mother talking about him. If that was so, why had Henry said his mother died giving birth to him?
* * * * *
The pain in Henry’s side stopped him from leaping off the bed and going after Ware. Sorcha fixed pillows to make him comfortable, and he tried to settle back.
“Did he tell you why he’s competing?” he asked her.
“He’s agreed to accept my challenge.”
“Why? He’d not come out of retirement for an exhibition.”
“Not an exhibition, Henry. He agreed to a real competition. I don’t know if he thought making the deal to save your life was an incentive or a reward, but I’m holding him to it.” She caressed his cheek. “You scared me, Henry.”
“Then you understand why I don’t want you dragon fighting.”
“It’s only the one time against your brother. He’s not out to prove anything, so the danger is minimal. I think he’d even throw the competition if he thought I was in harm’s way.”
“I trust Ware, but injury is an aspect of the sport. Am I not proof? I just don’t like it.”
“Well, not everything in life can be to your liking, Sir Henry.” She got off the bed. “You knew from the start how much it meant to me to restore my father’s name. And now more so, since the slaughter of my dragons by the Tulanes.”
“Reven had no part in it.”
“So he keeps telling me. How can you be sure?”
“Reven and I are rivals, not enemies.”
“He said that very same thing. But you are not friends, either.”
“Not exactly.”
“He made a bet to bed me and now you tell me he’s trustworthy.”
“Is him making a bet really worse than me carting you to the back room of a tavern to have my way with you under protest?”
“You didn’t go through with it.”
“If you recall, he helped to save you from falling by flying me up to your dragon.”
“Yes, but only to claim his prize.”
“That he gave up in a dragon fight against me.”
“Why are you defending him?”
“After I was lanced in the leg and impaled by that dragon’s talon, it was all I could do to get back on the ground before passing out. I tried to get to my feet when I saw Uther land his dragon and come storming toward me. He didn’t like I was still alive and Reven attacked his own brother, stabbing him to keep him from killing me.”
“I’ll thank him the next time I see him.”
“That’s up to me. Just know he’s not evil like his brother.”
“What about that fight you had with him about your mother?”
“It’s not important.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I’ve been thinking about what Metta told me about your mother. I don’t think your mother died in the way you think.”
“I know. Ware told me she died when I was about a year and half old. Reven’s grandfather took her from Tregarth Castle. She fought him and I guess managed to stab him in the chest. Unfortunately, the fight must have been too close to the dragon. The commotion upset him and his flames caught her gown on fire.”
“Oh God, Henry. I’m so sorry. Why did they tell you she died when you were born?”
“With her dying breath, she made my father promise I’d grow up never knowing hate, never wanting vengeance. She killed Lord Relt thinking she had ended the evil of the Tulanes. She never counted on his son, Elan taking up where he left off.”
“Or that Elan’s sons would continue from there.”
“Uther, yes. Reven isn’t nearly as bad as his father or grandfather.”
“I hope not, since your brother has invited him to stay here.”
“Enough about the Tulanes.” He rubbed her arm and looked at the ring on his finger. “Would you get me that box?” He pointed across the room.
She brought it to him and sat back on the edge of the bed. He opened the box of trinkets and keepsakes.
“Treasures?” she asked, peering over the edge of the lid as he rummaged through the contents.
“Something like that.” He took out a green ribbon with a simple crystal pendant. “This was my mother’s. Kilburn said I liked to play with when it hung around her neck.”
“It does catch one’s eye.”
He removed it from the ribbon. “It’s yours if you want it, but there is something else I really want you to have.” He pulled his ring off his finger, put it on the ribbon and put the ribbon around her neck.
“Your ring with the heart?” She looked down and rolled the gold between her fingers.
“My heart, Sorcha.”
“Your—”
He had never known her to be speechless before, unless he counted the
night he flew her away from the death of her dragons. She’d had tears in her eyes then as well.
“Is that all right?” he asked.
“Could you be clearer as to what you mean?”
“I love you.”
“You can’t.” She got up from the bed and turned away.
Henry stared at her in surprise. He thought he’d feel foolish for confessing, but he didn’t.
“You’re beautiful, spirited, intelligent, and the most fun I’ve had my entire life. I can’t do anything but love you.”
“Henry, I’m a poor tavern wench. What chance I had to raise my prospects by training magnificent dragons have disappeared. You are a knight of the realm, a man with a grand future.”
“A very grand future with you as my wife.” He tried getting up again.
“She spun around. “You can’t be serious?” Rushing to the bed, she pushed him back.
“Marry me, Sorcha. Make me the happiest man in all the lands.” He held her face between his hands.
“Oh, Henry.” Tears welled in her eyes.
“Is that a yes?”
She nodded emphatically.
“Good.” He pulled her to lay with him on the bed. “I was hoping you weren’t going to put up a fight on this. I don’t think I can get out of this bed for a while to pursue you.”
“You don’t have to get up for anything, Henry.” She laid her head on his shoulder and slid her fingers down his chest, swirling them over his abdomen. “I can take care of all your needs right here.”
He put a hand under her chin and tipped her head back to look in her eyes aglow with happiness. “I really do love you, Sorcha.”
“And I love you, Henry. I promise to show you that everyday for the rest of our lives.”
# # # # #
About The Author
Brenda Williamson is married with one son and a house full of animals. One might think she has a hobby to provide a break from the many hours of writing, but storytelling is her hobby and she works at it full-time.
Writer Organizations Romance Writer’s of America, and sub-chapters; Pasic, From The Heart, Kiss of Death, Beau Monde, RWA Online, Hearts Thru History, FF&P, Celtic Hearts, Passionate Ink, & ESPAN. Novelists, Inc. The Author’s Guild
Red Sage Publishing
The Leader in Women’s Erotic Romance
Sensual fiction written for the adventurous woman.
Featuring the best in women’s ultra sensual and spicy fiction, satisfying your desire for more.
Visit our website and discover delicious temptations and spicy fantasies!
www.eRedSage.com