Angie Arms - Flames series 04

by The Strongest Flames

  “Get Hildred!”

  Within moments Halvor was surrounded, and many hands reached to take Jillian from him, but he would not release her. Despite he felt close to collapse, his chest ached, and his breath felt caught in his throat, he would not relinquish her. He heard Hildred calling orders and a group followed them all the way to Jillian’s chamber. As he was laying her down, hands were coming out to pull the wet cloak from her, then her clothes. Immediately she was covered by a large blanket. Halvor was pushed back out of the way, and he looked up to see the room was empty, save for a handful of women bustling about.

  “Get into dry clothes or it will be the death of you,” Hildred admonished, turning away from him to give her full attention to Jillian.

  Halvor knew she was in the best hands possible, so he left. He went about the process of putting on dry clothes, but he felt as if he was just going through the motions, his mind remained locked on the woman who was so cold when he laid her down. He went to the little hall and sat at one of the tables, staring at the flames in the hearth. The hall was small enough it chased the chill away. He would have to see about tapestries to cover the walls. The ones Ryann hung at Kinsey made a world of difference in retaining the heat. He wondered if Jillian could sew. Ryann had a creative touch and a skill with the needle, and he found himself angry that he did not know if his wife could do such a thing.

  He stood and went to the entrance, stepping into the small alcove that gave the entryway cover from blowing wind and rains. The drizzle continued, a steady flow of icy rain. If the temperature dropped anymore, there would be snow. A shiver ran up his spine, she was so cold. Halvor turned and went back into the hall, taking a seat near the warmth of the fire. Most of the keep already found their beds, only those seeing to Jillian stirred, so he had blissful solitude to think, because at the moment he felt that was what he needed to do most.

  He was a logical man, he had to be, in order to see the whole of a situation. He was also practical, there was no sense in using 100 soldiers, when 50 would triumph. Yet, there was no logical or practical purpose in his deeds tonight. He should have run back to the keep and gotten a horse and cart. The forest wasn’t too dense to allow passage most of the way. Yet, he stayed with her, and carried her all the way. The cart probably would be just as quick, but he couldn’t leave her. There was no logical reason to it, other than he just couldn’t leave her. The same was true when he reached the keep, he could hand her over to those not too exhausted to walk one more step. Yet, he forced himself to walk those extra steps to place her in her bed himself. What practical purpose did that serve? The agonizing truth was, he thought of none of it. His organizational way of thinking fled in that moment.

  He moved from that thought to another. Before a battle he would prepare himself by thinking about all he was feeling, and why he was feeling it. Such as anger, did he dislike his enemy so much it brought anger on and why did he hate them so much? Then, he would not find himself blinded by his anger and making foolish decisions. Was he apprehensive? If he felt apprehension, that meant he knew they faced a strong army, so then he would think of what made them strong, and he could seek to weaken that strength. Was he eager? Going into battle eager made him realize he was confident in his army’s superiority and might make him complacent, and again make foolish mistakes. Now he found it difficult to choose one emotion as more dominant over another.

  He was apprehensive, perhaps it was because he did not like for the woman to be in pain. He spent a great deal of time thinking of a way to ensure Jillian did not suffer at the hands of another man such as Bruce. It would stand to reason, pain he could not stop, would make him feel such a thing.

  Time ticked by slowly, at least it seemed slowly. It felt as if he was going mad inside his own mind with each beat of his heart counting down the seconds into minutes, until it felt as if hours marched past, and his heart ended up beating franticly until his chest ached. Such a thing was far from eagerness. He recognized it for what it was. When did Jillian become such a part in his life that her plight brought forth his fear? His sisters made him feel it many times, but he never knew true fear for anyone except them, until now. Jillian was just supposed to be a wife, not even a true wife. Only a woman that fell under his protection, and by carrying the name wife, no man could ever touch her again. He never thought he would have an emotional attachment to her. Yet, how could he not? He spent a great deal of time over the years thinking of her. Wondering why he would leave her there. He would kill Bruce if it was one of his sisters.

  Had he built Jillian up in his mind? He could still picture her as the innocent she was that first night. He remembered her vulnerable frailness when he took her back to her room. That same woman was so cold in his arms and that was why he was afraid. He hoped for Bruce’s death for years. Did he not have Garrick’s army to command, it might have been a strong enough desire, he might have carried out on his own. Hadn’t he known since he laid her in her bed, the bruises already showing, he would one day find a way to make it up to her? Had hoped for an opportunity. Some men found love weak, if they believed in its existence at all. He commanded an army for one of those men. But Halvor’s sisters taught him the day they were born, there was love, and it was a most splendid thing. Now, as he thought about his wife lying up there in the bed, so cold, in so much pain, it was not a terrifying thought that he must love her. It was enough to shoot him to his feet and back to stand outside her chamber.

  He heard her, her weak voice, the moans and groans as she tried to push the baby out of herself. Now came the anger. If Bruce was here now he would plant a fist in the middle of his face and crack his skull open for the pain his seed was causing her. What would it be like to raise Bruce’s child? The thought made Halvor shrug. It would not be much different than raising his own. It would be a part of Jillian, he may not feel a special bond with him or her, as he thought he might with his own, but it would be an innocent child. He could be no different to the child than he would be any other.

  She screamed a long guttural scream, and Hildred’s frantic voice told her “again,” over and over. A sob came from Jillian, and Halvor could stand it no more. He flung the door open and entered the women’s sanctuary. All the way to the bed, despite the gasps and chilling looks he received.

  “Come on Jillian push,” Hildred said, not missing a beat, as if men walked into birthing rooms all the time.

  Jillian’s face turned red as she pushed again, her teeth clamped tightly together. Chaos suddenly reined in the room. Jillian fell backward, her eyes closing and her face went deathly pale. Hildred lifted a baby, while another woman severed the cord that tied it to its mother. She turned it upside down and spanked its bottom, but the child made no sound.

  “Halvor?” Jillian’s weak voice came from beside him.

  He turned to her, and kneeling on the floor next to her, pushed her hair from her sweaty face. “It’s over now my love.”

  “The baby?” she asked, and he heard such uncertainty in her voice he wanted to protect her from that question, for there were no cries filling the room.

  He looked to Hildred, whose back was to him, as she bent over the lifeless form in her hands. It was several minutes before she handed the baby to another, and turned back to them.

  “I’m sorry Jillian. He was pale when he came out, he just wouldn’t breath.”

  Halvor grabbed Jillian’s hand, and he watched the tears form in her eyes. “I did not think I would care,” she whispered, as sobs began. “But I do. I carried him a long time. He was part of me and now he’s just gone.” Halvor leaned forward and pulled his wife into his arms, and gave her a place to cry on his shoulder. She fell asleep there, and he finally lay her gently back on her pillows and covered her. Perhaps after rest, she would feel strong enough to face the loss.

  Jillian watched Halvor’s chest rise and fall as he slept in the chair next to her bed. He was with her all night as she dozed on and off. She remembered breakfast was brought, and she barely a
te it before she slept again. Now, with the clouds outside snuffing out the light of the sun Halvor slept, and Jillian found she was content to watch him. His face was lax with a peaceful tilt to his lips. Occasionally, a small snore would escape him, but otherwise he remained quiet.

  It was a cold rainy morning when they buried the baby. Jillian stood in the rain and sleet to watch his tiny body lowered into the ground. She was surprised by her grief. She put on a strong façade, and was hiding her grief admirably. Now as the first shovel of dirt was thrown on top of him, her knees buckled. She clasped her hands in front of her, and leaning over the grave, she tried to barter with God, using the soul of her son. She swore she would love him and never resent him if only she could have her son. Of course it was too late, Jillian knew it, but she could not stop the tears that streamed down her face and the hope she was wrong.

  After a time she became aware of Halvor behind her. When she felt his strong hands on her shoulders, she became aware she was chilled, her clothing soaked by the rain that picked up, and was mixing with snow. Once she was standing on her shaking legs, he stood next to her, his arm wrapped about her shoulder, holding her close. The grave was finished and they watched as the men placed the little wooden cross at the head of it.

  “He never even had a name,” she whispered.

  Halvor remained quiet, but his hand squeezed her shoulder slightly. After the cross was complete, Halvor stood with her another moment before he guided her around, and they moved back toward the keep. Back inside she was settled in the solar, the fire in the hearth was set to blazing. Hildred brought dried clothes and helped her change, while Halvor went to retrieve bread and wine. She was thankful he did not enter the room with a heaping tray of food he was fond of, for her stomach would not be able to handle the smell. Settled into one of the soft chairs, he gently tucked a blanket across her lap.

  His face was close to hers and he stared intently at her as he completed the task. She never knew a man such as he, and she was very glad she had him for a husband. He made a fine one, and would make an even better father.

  “When will your sisters come?” she asked, once he took a seat across from her.

  “I do not know. I hesitate to mention this now, but you need to know. I must leave tomorrow. Garrick and Damien are taking a stand against the King, and I must go retrieve Countess Ryann and take her to him.”

  “Then what will you do?

  She watched Halvor’s face change. She was not sure what she saw there, but she had the distinct impression he did not like the answer.

  He shrugged his big shoulders. “Since I am commander of Lord Garrick’s army and the King now has most of those men, I must see to his protection.”

  “Surely there is someone else?” Jillian questioned, feeling her heart sink inside her chest.

  “If only Marcus were here, I would feel more comfortable leaving Garrick, but he is not, and Garrick is alone in the lion’s den. I must do what I have sworn I will do.”

  “So you will get the Countess then go to Scotts Manor and wait there.”

  “Yes.”

  “What of your sisters?”

  “I suppose I will take them to Scotts Manor as well.”

  “Then take me too.”

  Halvor looked appalled, and Jillian felt the hair on the back of her neck bristle. “You have just been through a very difficult birth and lost your child. I see even now how pale you are.”

  “I will be fine.” She swallowed, gripping the blanket to her chest. “Please don’t leave me here alone. I never knew how I hated this place until you came into my life and left it again. Without you, this place is only dark. I know I have no right to ask this of you, but please don’t leave me alone with all the memories. Every corner of this place holds a memory of some level of pain, and now, even my place of solitude is not free.”

  Halvor’s brows drew together. “You did not listen to me.”

  “I had to get away. But I am sorry.”

  A smile began to creep back into his daunting features. “I will take you with me, but you must be honest with me during the journey, and let me know when you must rest.”

  “All right, I will do so.”

  Halvor sat back in his seat and quiet fell across the room once again. Jillian cast glances from the flickering flames in the hearth to her husband. She never thought she would ever want another man to touch her, but this man, who was her husband, was a different breed. She did not know if she truly desired his touch. His kiss was nice and gentle, and he was a kind man. But a man’s desire was a volatile thing. Yet she wanted to give this man sons and daughters to carry on his name, and his kindness, into the world. Men like Bruce did not need to fill the world with his seed, but Halvor would make the world a better place when they raised their children in a kind and loving home, and sent them out to pass it on to their children, and hundreds of generations to come.

  “Halvor?”

  “Yes?” he questioned, and by his voice she knew he was close to dozing.

  “I want to have your children.”

  “Right now?” he asked, and he was suddenly alert, and looking a little like a frightened rabbit caught in a snare.

  “No,” she said with a light chuckle, and she watched him visibly relax. “I like you and want to give you many sons and daughters.”

  She watched Halvor swallow. “I will have to touch you to do this.”

  Again Jillian chuckled. “I just ask that you be patient with me. I admit the thought scares me a great deal, but you are a kind man, and I trust you.”

  “Then we will have children,” Halvor declared. “But first you must get your strength back so they will be strong children.”

  “Yes husband,” Jillian replied, before silence filled the room once again.

  ~ ~ ~

  Kinsey

  The attack came in the middle of the night, so they were unprepared for it. If Garrick was there, the keep would not be taken by surprise, for the guards would not dare to sleep on their watch. But someone was, which was how the small number of men were able to get inside, and take prisoner those who they did not kill. For hours in the flickering shadows of candle light and torches, the people who lived inside the keep were found, and the women were imprisoned in the hall. Ryann did not know where the men were taken, and she prayed for everyone’s safety.

  “You are a pretty one,” Ryann turned quickly to see an older man staring intently at Carling. The girl who barely had time to turn a woman, stood with her eyes clinched closed, her body rigid. When she felt his finger touch her cheek she made a whimpering sound

  “Leave her alone,” Ryann said boldly, stepping forward, but quaking inside.

  “I take it you are the infamous Countess,” a man’s deep voice said from the doorway. She turned quickly to see a tall, lean man who appeared a great deal less intimidating then the men who forced them into the hall.

  “Yes,” she said, looking up at the relatively handsome man.

  “I have come for you.”

  “For me?” Ryann asked, her fear mingling with confusion.

  “Yes,” the man said with a smile that chilled his blue eyes. He took two steps closer, so he was within arm’s length of her. “I am going to gut you alive while your husband watches,” he said in a voice devoid of loathing or malice, but stated simply as the truth. “You will scream, and you will beg, but this is what I must do.”

  “Why?” she asked, her mouth gone dry, while she fought to keep her legs from shaking.

  “Because you have turned Garrick. He was like me, and found joy in bathing England in the blood of innocents,” he reached out and grabbed her arm, pulling her close enough she felt his warmth. He bent to her ear. “He liked tasting the blood, bathing in its warmth. He liked the feel of a person as their soul left their bodies, watching it in their eyes. So now he will watch you beg for your life, but I will go ahead and tell you, you are as good as dead. He will watch your pretty eyes glaze over as he is bathed in your blood. Then
I will kill him.”

  The man released her and for a frantic moment she lost her senses, awash with fear, she bolted. She did not make it five paces before she was picked up off her feet, and carried back to be sat on her feet and spun about, to face the man responsible for their attack. A cold smile crept its way across his face.

  “You will be in my care for a little time, so we must cover some rules. You will not run, you will not attack, you will be only docile in your behavior, or there will be punishments.”

  “Who are you?”

  “I am the devil,” he hissed.

  The whimpering sound came from Carling again. The man had one hand on her shoulder, applying pressure downward, and his other hand was creeping toward her crotch.

  “Your good behavior will be rewarded by those around us not suffering. We’ll begin with this dear young lady here. I can allow my men to have at her, or we will leave with you happily joining us, and the girl will remain untouched.” The man turned his head to watch the skirt of Carling’s gown being worked upward, franticly even, as her whimper threatened to cross over to hysteria.

  “What will it be?” he asked, turning his attention back to Ryann.

  “I will go with you,” she replied, her mouth parched like a sandy desert.

  “Then smile about it,” the man replied, as if she truly would, his face lighting up with jubilation. If a woman didn’t know better, it might be easy to fall for his handsome face, but the man was evil. A shiver walked up her spine as she watched him lean toward her, grabbing her by the shoulder, he propelled her forward. She walked a couple steps before he was in front of her again. “I want to see a smile,” he coaxed, when she came to an abrupt halt to stare up at him.

  He waited expectantly with his chilling smile. Feeling like the mouse caught in a trap, Ryann flexed her facial muscles, twisting her lips into a smile that felt almost painful. “Very good,” he said, turning away to walk. “I know soon you will have nothing to smile about.” He did not walk far before he realized she was not behind him. He stopped and turned to her. “I do not ask when you do not comply with the agreements, and I do not repeat myself.” Again he turned and walked away, but Ryann’s legs refused to move. Forgotten was Carling, as Ryan stood staring after the man who promised to kill her and Garrick.