by Amber Dane
The sound of the door closing was like a bell going off inside Danielle’s head and she stood, only to have her knees buckle and she leaned on the bed for support. It mattered not, for she collapsed the rest of the way, taking Aric’s hand with her as she gave in to the shock and grief she’d held in check the whole day. She sobbed right where she fell, on the floor next to him.
Something soft was tickling his cheek and Aric suppressed the urge to smile and moved his hand to wipe it away, but it escaped his touch to slide down over his throat to his chest. He grunted and opened his eyes. It took a few moments for them to adjust to the darkness and another moment to orient himself. He felt Danielle’s warm body pressed against his side, a lock of her hair fanned across his naked chest. He was abed.
A single taper illuminated the room.
He moved but an inch and sharp pain exploded at the back of his neck. The pounding headache caused nausea to churn within his belly. He tried to move again, turning his head when another shard of white hot pain flashed through his skull. He closed his eyes and a guttural groan escaped his lips.
“Aric!” Danielle’s sleepy cry above him cut through his haze of pain.
“Sw…Sweet, Danielle.” He managed to murmur, swallowing to loosen his tongue as he felt her hands on his face for a brief moment. But before he could say another word, the pain took him back under the swathe of darkness.
When next he woke, ‘twas to voices and to a dull, throbbing headache. Aric had to shake his head to clear the images he was seeing. The first figure he recognized easily as that of his wife, the next, ah, Balwain.
He must have made a sound for Balwain’s shout caused Danielle to turn and rush over to the bed. He struggled against the darkness as its fingers seized him again. With his last ebb of strength, Aric trained his gaze on Danielle’s lovely and smiling face before the darkness triumphed.
This time when he woke, it was to semi-darkness and the sound of someone humming a light pleasant tune. He was damn thirsty and turning his head, he was met with clarity and saw Danielle sewing something seated on the bench near the hearth. Her body faced him, but her dark head was down.
He worked his tongue with a prayer it functioned. “What must I do to get a droplet of water on my parched tongue, milady?’
Her head shot up and Aric swore he never saw a more beautiful sight as she flew over to him. Her hair unbound and loose flowed around her frame and she wore a white shift.
Danielle cried, “Aric! You are awake.”
Her warm hands cupped his face and Aric smiled up at her, her grey-blue eyes filled with moisture. He felt a pang in his chest and said soothingly, “You must be happy for I see your tears, Danielle.”
“Aye, I am happy, Aric. Very happy indeed.” She exclaimed as a fat tear formed and slipped down her cheek. “Do you feel any pain?”
He reached up to wipe away her tear and caress her cheek. “Nay. The hammer to my skull has blessed me with a reprieve and departed.”
She did cry then, deep hearty sobs as her head dropped to his chest. Her body shook hard with her sobs and he soothed her with sweet words until she calmed and finally lifted her tear stained face.
He leaned up and kissed her lightly, ignoring the pain throbbing in his neck. He’d not lied completely; most of the pain was gone. But he’d not say anything to her. The dark circles under her eyes worried him and he wanted them gone. He groaned when she moaned against his mouth, he could taste her tears.
“Sweet Danielle. As much as I love the taste of you any other time, I fear this time, I need water first.” He said hoarsely.
Hearing her small laugh warmed his heart.
“Oh! Of course, Aric. Of course.” She hummed a little tune as she quickly climbed off the bed. His heart soared as her joyful humming lit a fire in his chest. He watched her with his heart in his eyes as she poured the fresh water into a cup.
After she helped him swallow two cups of water, she helped prop him up with pillows against his back and sat on the bed next to him.
Aric was pleased that she held his hand in hers while her hungry eyes drank him in. He took the exquisite vision of her in. Her large eyes were puffy and dark. She had been crying hard and his heart twisted when he glimpsed her grief in the retelling of what had happened.
“And Thunder? How does he fare?” he asked her, some of the hoarseness lifted from his voice.
Her sniffles tore at him and he stiffened, waiting.
Her words came quietly. “I am sorry, Aric. He went over with you and did not…there was naught they could do.”
Aric exhaled the painful breath that he’d been holding and pulled her up against his chest. The memory of the fall came rushing back to him.
Thunder would be hard to replace.
Danielle kissed his neck as he trembled under her. She was so sorry that the beautiful beast had fallen to its death. She knew he grieved for the great warhorse, but he would not say more.
After a moment longer of silence, she could tell that his breathing was more relaxed and she said, “The men that helped Balwain I am pleased to say, remained for they wanted to see how you fared.”
“The Dark Axe is still here on Gravane land?”
The excitement in his tone pleased Danielle and she was glad that she had asked the men to stay. Then she frowned, asking with a perplexed look upon her face. "The Dark Axe? Nay, the men that helped Balwain are the ones that remained. The Dark Axe did not come back with them. Was he with them before your fall?”
She had heard of this Dark Axe. Everyone had. His name preceded him and was well known throughout Northumberland. She was glad this man was not with Rourke Thorsson. He had the reputation of being one of the most vicious and savage Norman warriors known. She must have spoken her thoughts aloud for Aric’s words pulled her back.
“Aye, Danielle. His name precedes him.”
“It does indeed. He is not with this lord and I fear I must admit I am glad of it. Rourke Thorsson does not seem like the sort to want to be in the company of a man like him.” She shivered with a nod that Aric was not sure if from relief or repulsion.
He watched her, smiling. She gave him an odd look. “What is so amusing?”
“Did you not say that Rourke Thorsson is our guest?”
Narrowing her gaze at the gleam in his eyes, she nodded.
“Do you not know who ‘tis that you have invited to stay under your roof? Ah, Balwain failed to tell.” Aric could barely contain himself with the look of horror that came over her face.
“Nay! Do not jest about such things, Aric!” She pushed him back down as he moved to rise from the bed.
“I jest not. The Dark Axe is Rourke Thorsson, Lord of Westlan,” he told her firmly with mirth in his tone.
Danielle shook her head in disbelief. That could not be the same man of which those horrible battle stories had been carried off the field about. The man she had met possessed a gentle smile. And she had even thought he’d reminded her of her husband. Nay! He could not be the same man!
“’Tis one in the same, Danielle.” Aric let out a small chuckle. She would never stop saying her thoughts out loud and he found he was pleased that she had this quirk about her.
“But-“Danielle let out a sigh. ‘Twas too late now. She had asked him to stay. Blast it!
“Rumors are just that, Danielle, tongues wagging with tales that run amuck. He is a fair and honorable man that I must thank for aiding my men and in saving my life. We were in the same garrison under one of William’s lieutenant’s. Another who also became a friend. All that time together, war and death brought us all closer and a kinship was formed.”
Her ghastly expression told him what she was thinking. Aric spoke the words to confirm it. “Aye, he is a friend.”
She barely nodded but he saw she understood. The truth of it shone in those eyes he so adored.
“The Dark Axe? But his hair is blonde….”
Aric smiled at the confounded expression on her face. “That is not how he g
ot the name. ‘Tis the black steel axe he carries that cleaves a man in two.” He felt her shudder and draw back from his touch, with the look of horror back on her face.
“Is that what he truly does?” She asked her eyes widening. Aric pulled her back to him and caressed her cheek.
“Aye.”
“I think I’ve seen it. He carries it…on his back.” She choked out.
“Aye. ‘Tis always with him. A special weapon made just for him. I have seen him myself split a man from balls to skull. Battle is not pretty, Danielle. We do what we must and have to when we are on the battlefield. I am sorry if this upsets you. He is but a man that does his duty under our liege lord as we all have pledged and sworn an oath to do.”
Danielle met his gaze. She saw the dark look in his eyes. She could only imagine the brutality and horrible acts he’d seen in battle. But she could not imagine what he and men like the Dark Axe had to carry on their shoulders. ‘Twas a burden she had a choice not to carry where they did not. She leaned down and kissed his lips.
Aric smiled. “What was that for?”
“For your wounds, Aric.”
He gave her a baffled look. “My wounds? I hurt my head not my lips.” He chuckled and let out a groan of desire when she gave him another light kiss on his lips.
“I know. ‘Tis for the wounds and scars you carry that I cannot see.”
Aric stiffened as her meaning hit him. He gathered her into his embrace and nuzzled her neck. Danielle said nothing as she felt him tremble under her as he held her close.
After a long moment, he turned her face up to meet his and took her mouth in a scorching kiss.
When she was able to breathe again, she leaned over and took the sharp piece of animal bone from the table next to the bed, curling her fingers around it. “There is more, Aric.”
He arched a brow in question and Danielle turned his hand over and dropped the sharp bit onto his palm. Aric stared at it hard as she repeated where Balwain had retrieved it. His gaze met hers and she saw the storm brewing there. He closed his fist tightly around it as rage swept through him.
Chapter 27
Danielle fumed as she watched Aric check his attire once again. She had managed to pull his hair back and tie it at the back of his neck. There still was enough that remained for her to do so. He’d not been so mad after all, but he had teased her about cutting it nonetheless. Now he stood there in a fine tunic and hose and still looked as if he would fall over any minute. And why shouldn’t he? She thought angrily. The man should still be abed.
Danielle tried again what she had been trying to do since he’d risen after their talk earlier. “But, Aric, you cannot.” She ignored his dark look.
“Do not tell me what to do.”
Danielle harrumphed and Aric continued to straighten his tunic as he prepared to go below stairs and have the evening meal with the Dark Axe. He knew her reasoning was just, but she did not understand his. He had to do it. He added, “’Tis something that must be done.”
He heard her stomp behind him around the bed, followed by her fussing and throwing things around all the while mumbling under her breath. He cocked an ear, with a crooked smile on his face waiting to hear a curse fall from her mouth.
None did.
Satisfied with his attire, he turned to face her where she stood by the bed, her arms folded across her chest. That corner of their chamber was a mess from her little tantrum. He said naught about it and walked over to the chamber door.
“Ready?”
She hesitated for a long time then came over to him, her displeasure in her stiff movements and her face flush with anger. “I do not have a choice, do I? Someone has to be there to stop you if you fall face first into your trencher.”
Aric’s chest rumbled with laughter. “Our trencher.”
Danielle gave him a sidelong glance that showed her disapproval. She swung open the chamber door and stalked past him in a huff.
He’d just awakened this eve, the third night after the fall in the ravine and the man wanted to go share a feast with the Dark Axe and thank him. Danielle was furious.
But as she linked her arm through his as they descended the stairs she knew no matter her disagreement, Aric was right. He would go down rather than have another great warrior like himself see him abed like a sick maid. Although he had not been taken by fever, his wound was too fresh to be moving about. The wound on his leg did not even bother him.
They walked into the great hall.
From his men-at- arms, servants to the villagers and local nobles she’d invited and Rourke himself, her husband was greeted with a boisterous outcry of well-being and other cheers. Danielle smiled even though she still fumed with worry as they made their way through the crowd to the lord’s table. Damn men and their glory!
Aric could feel Danielle’s eyes burning a hole in the side of his face as he discussed the events and more with Balwain and Rourke. The hall was still rather noisy as the revelers enjoyed the great and bountiful feast that had been prepared in welcome for the Lord of the Manor and his health.
Danielle turned her head away from the remains of the dressed swan, cooked in its feathers to impress as had been the rest of the extravagant feast and found her eyes meeting Rourke’s. She felt her cheeks warming. The man had gazed every now and then in her direction during the meal and she knew that Aric had noticed. His stiff body told her so. She averted her gaze and smiled at Balwain. Balwain returned her smile with a wink.
Aric shifted his legs under the table. Sweat broke out on his brow. God’s wounds! He was tiring and that pounding headache was back making him see those white spots again.
He knew that the anger and jealousy he was trying to reign in over the Dark Axe’s furtive glances in Danielle’s direction were what was keeping his head up and from falling face first into their near full trencher. He would not alert her for he did not wish her to know that she’d been right.
Still, he did not know how much longer he would be able to maintain his composure. He had to make it seem as though it was her idea to make him retire early.
The glower Aric was showering upon the Dark Axe was beginning to look challenging. Anxiety crept up Danielle’s spine, even though the look on Rourke’s face told her he seemed to find it amusing. She ignored him for she was focused on the way Aric’s skin had paled under his collar.
She touched his hand under the table and was surprised to find it balled into a tight fist. Licking her lips and swallowing she whispered, “I fear I am tiring already, Aric. Can we not retire early?”
He turned to her with a look of disappointment. “Are you not well, Danielle?”
She smiled at his contrived expression. Such a brave man. She saw the fight in his eyes and she knew he was struggling to stay awake.
They quickly made announcement and she pulled Balwain aside to ask his assistance to seeing them above stairs. Danielle was glad that she did, for once they had reached the top Aric fell backwards like a great oak against Balwain.
The fever raged through Aric and broke on the second day at dawn.
This time, he heeded his wife’s instructions to remain abed up to the moment she left the room just after the midday meal had been served. He ventured down into the room off the hall that she’d turned into a study to meet with Balwain, Rourke and his man Goran.
After discussing the few rebels they had dispatched before running into one another on the ridge that day he lost Thunder, Aric discovered that there was another reason that Rourke was passing through this Northern shire.
The Dark Axe was en route to collect a bride of his own. The look on his face reminded Aric of the look he was sure he had worn to what now seemed so long ago. Disgust and reluctance.
He found himself smiling at the blonde man’s agitated drudgery over the pending task.
A part of him was glad to hear the news for he would hate to have to call out a challenge to the man, friendship or not, for his obvious taking to Danielle.
Whom
now stood in the doorway with a look of annoyance on her face.
Aric shifted in his seat and waved a hand for her to enter. Rourke smiled at her and Aric shot him a dark look.
Danielle was shaking with her anger that her bull-headed husband had waited till she left his side to sneak away from the bed. She knew better than to chastise him for his tactful deceit in front of their guests, but her anger had brought her feet below stairs and before she’d realized it she was standing here in the doorway. Taking a deep breath, she walked over to him and greeted the other men with a pleasant smile.
Rourke continued speaking. “The people of York have shown life again after the famine and our king is pleased with the result. Just north of there, my…my betrothed waits.”
Danielle glanced in his direction and noted the repulsed expression on his handsome face. She turned away, sadness in her heart. Aric was right. War indeed was not pretty or easy for any side.
Many had died when that area had been scorched and plagued by the forced famine at the King’s hand in his quest to rule farther North of England. The act had been an insult to England when it was referred to as the Harrying of the North. She took a drink from Aric’s offered chalice. Hundreds if not thousands had died. The fires had burned so heavily, and the thick smoke could be seen from Gravane’s lands.
Aric saw the light shiver ripple through Danielle’s form as she downed his cup of wine. She did not belong here.
He stood and slipped an arm around her waist and led her back out of the room.
In the hall, he planted a light kiss on her brow and said, “Much to your dismay, I need to attend to business. With Thomas still out there, I cannot sit by and wait any longer. ‘Tis an urgent matter that needs my attention now, Danielle. I will be well and will allow you to check on me when Rourke departs. He and his man leave before the eve.”
Danielle started to argue, but smiled at him instead and squeezed his forearm. “Just do not tax yourself much. Promise me?”