Creating Memories - A Medieval Romance (The Sword of Glastonbury Series Book 6)

by Shea,Lisa

  Storm threw a wet rag at Falcon, hitting him squarely in the face. “That was not nice,” she scolded him, although her eyes were dancing. She smiled down at the frightened boy. “No, no,” she soothingly promised him. “The oatmeal will help the scratched-up skin gentle, so it heals quicker. The hot water will overwhelm the itching for a short while, so you do not feel it any more.”

  A short while later, Zach was in fresh, clean clothes, and his face looked relaxed for the first time all day. Storm was still shaking her head at Falcon’s comments as they headed in together to lunch.

  When Falcon headed out for the afternoon with the two young men for a ride through several of the villages, Storm stood in the gateway for a long time, lost in thought. She began formulating a plan for how to help Zach become more self-sufficient.

  If only she had time to see it through.

  * * *

  Sunday dawned sunny and crisp. Storm found a freshly made blue dress laid out for her; Carol had finished the new outfit. It was beautiful. Storm ran her fingers down it in appreciation before putting it on and braiding her hair down the sides of her face.

  She was glad she spent the extra time. Falcon’s eyes glowed as she walked into the room. He held out a hand to her, and she placed hers gently into his. With a smile he brought his lips down to press against her hand in a courtly kiss. She found herself dropping to a curtsey automatically, falling into the routine as naturally as if they had known one another for years.

  Heather and Molly joined them from the kitchen, and Storm gasped in surprise. Heather was wearing the rose dress, and the difference was stunning. Her cheeks now blushed in harmony with the dress, and the braids highlighted the glow of her face. Since they started serving fruit and cheese for dessert, Heather’s skin had become lustrous and smooth, and her figure one of lush curves.

  Falcon bowed in greeting to the young girl. “At this rate, my keep will be known throughout the area for its beautiful women,” he commented with a smile to Heather. She blushed pink straight down to her toes, and the glow did not leave her until long after the mass was complete.

  Lunch was a delicious meal of stew and fresh bread; Storm had two large mugs of mead and was quite warm by the time the trenchers were being cleared away. Falcon leaned over, pressing a hand tenderly on her arm, and to her surprise she did not flinch, but rather leaned in to his touch in response. Warm currents ran through her from where his fingers lay.

  “Shall we try a game of backgammon?” he asked her in a low voice. “We can see if that awakens any fresh memories for you.”

  A tremor of desire thrilled through her, she was nearly overwhelmed with longing to be alone with him for the afternoon. She was all too aware of the danger in that situation. Her eyes glanced over to Heather who was moving past the table with a pitcher of mead.

  “Heather, come sing for me,” she asked in a friendly voice. “It would be the perfect way to pass a Sunday afternoon.”

  “Just for you?” asked Heather nervously.

  “Well, Falcon would be in the room, but I promise he will not listen,” teased Storm gently.

  Heather blushed, her eyes going between the two, but she nodded. “If you wish, I would be happy to provide some songs.”

  The three moved into the study and Falcon set up the board by the fireplace. Storm sat across from him, and Heather curled up in the window seat, gazing out at the quiet landscape. Heather’s voice was pure and sweet, and with her presence Storm relaxed. She almost convinced herself that the friendly backgammon game was a quiet pastime, nothing more. The afternoon passed in tranquil contentment.

  * * *

  The next morning Storm dutifully ran through her workout routine with the soldiers, allowing them to watch and comment as she moved. However, it was when that phase of her morning was over that her eyes sparked with interest and her step quickened. She walked over to where Zach was kneeling with his puppies, playing gently with the brood.

  “Well then, my lad, are you ready for your lesson?” she asked with a smile, resting her hand lightly on the sword at her hip.

  Zach looked up at her in confusion, then stood uncertainly. “My lesson in what?” he asked, idly scratching at his arm.

  “Let us call it self-defense,” offered Storm, taking a step forward so she stood squarely in front of him.

  Zach nervously licked his lips. “They are both much bigger than I am,” he offered, glancing around him. “I really think it is much better if I just let things be.”

  The smile on Storm’s face spread. “Look at me,” she responded. “I am certainly smaller than just about any man I meet. Would you want me to simply give in to any bandit who accosted me on my travels, or would you want me to at least try to defend myself?”

  Zach looked Storm up and down, a glimmer of hope sparkling into life. “What can we do, if we are smaller and weaker?” he finally asked.

  “Well, let me show you …”

  * * *

  To her delight, Storm found that Zach was an apt pupil, quickly picking up on the sweeping leg moves, side steps, and other grappling actions she practiced with him.

  “I am about their size,” she pointed out to him as they set themselves up in an arm lock. “They are not yet fully grown, but for now I am the perfect model for you. So if you just do this …”

  Zach’s eyes lit up with pleasure as he realized the techniques they were practicing were of practical value, that he just might be able to hold his own against the tormenters. He threw himself into the practice with fervor, and in a short while they were both drenched with sweat and mud.

  The lunch bell rang, and Storm gave Zack a fond pat on the back. “Shall we say tomorrow, at the same time?” she asked him with a grin.

  “Absolutely!” he returned, and then scampered off around the corner of the stable, a spring in his step that Storm had not seen previously.

  She smiled with pleasure, heading around toward the stairs, pulling up when she realized Falcon was standing there waiting for her, his eyes on hers, holding a look of pride.

  She looked down her body, realizing that she was completely caked with mud and grime. She chuckled, shaking her head. The man clearly needed to eat more carrots and have his vision improved.

  Falcon’s voice was warm as she drew up close to him. “There you are, Storm. Ready for lunch?”

  “I am famished,” responded Storm heartily, her stomach rumbling loudly at the thought of food. Her eyes drew down across her dress again, and she chuckled. “Just let me get changed, and I will be right down.”

  Falcon stood back to let her past, but she could feel his warmth as she moved by him. Her step slowed. Then her stomach rumbled again and she took the stairs two at a time, changing quickly to return to his side.

  The luncheon meal seemed to drift by with ease, the surrounding babble fading from her awareness. It was just him and her, with an easy comfort she was delighted to wrap around herself as a warm blanket on a chill winter’s night. It was so soothing to talk with Falcon. She felt that she could share anything with him without being judged, without being evaluated.

  Then they were finishing their meal, moving to the stables, and heading out into the serene afternoon.

  Her eyes drifted over his profile as the faint scent of sweet woodruff drifted in the breeze. She was struck again with how well he handled his horse. With how skilled with sword he was; with his tender care for his people and the attentive focus to their needs.

  It suddenly seemed almost impossible that he had made it to this age in life without having a bevy of women desperately in love with him. Surely more than Jessica had tried. How had he avoided the other single ladies in the region; side-stepped succumbing to one’s charms and having a trio of smiling children running to be in his arms? How was he even free to contemplate this truce?

  He glanced over at her as they rode their horses side by side through the familiar village lanes, walking at a slow pace beneath the fluffy autumn clouds.

  “Wha
t is on your mind?” he asked with interest. “Those seem to be deep thoughts in which you swim.”

  Storm glanced up guiltily, a flush pinkening her cheeks. “I have no right to ask,” she demurred, looking down from his intense focus.

  Falcon sharpened his gaze, intrigued. “Now you have me curious. What do you want to know?”

  She paused for a long moment. A sparrow flew overhead, undulating in its path before darting back into a nearby barn.

  “How is it that you are still single, to be available for this marriage and truce?” she asked at last. “Surely some girl has caught your eye before now.”

  Tension settled over Falcon’s face and shoulders, and it seemed to be an effort for him to hold her gaze, not to look away. His voice was tight when he spoke. “I suppose that is a fair enough question.” He chuckled wryly. “I would want to know the same thing about you, if you had the memory to answer it. How could such a beautiful, intelligent woman not have a husband to care for her?”

  Storm flushed at the praise, not responding. After a moment Falcon seemed to uncoil a bit, taking in a deep breath.

  “After my parents’ deaths, for many years I felt lost,” he quietly explained. “I worked on my training, I talked with the neighboring leaders, and I built up my reputation. I achieved a great deal in that period of time - but I was haunted by loneliness.”

  His hand ran absently down the mane of his horse. “As I turned sixteen, then seventeen, many of the neighbors offered their daughters and nieces for me to talk with.” He shrugged. “I am afraid that none interested me at all.”

  He looked off down the road, his gaze unfocusing. “Then, one day, a young woman came to town. Her name was Sheila; she was a red-head with a wide smile and quick wit. When she met me a few days later at the local faire, her eyes grew wide with recognition. She said that she had spent her early youth at the keep, and that we had been playmates. That we had hidden our friendship from the adults, because they would have found it inappropriate.”

  He shook his head. “She knew so many things about me. She knew the tree I loved to climb; the spot in the stream where I swam and fished. She knew the song I enjoyed belting out at the top of my lungs. I began to believe it. No, more than that, I began to actually remember that she was there, in my past. I figured I had forgotten about her, somehow, due to the ensuing trauma.”

  Storm rode along in silence, letting him talk. He hesitated for a long moment, his gaze moving to meet hers with a mixture of unsure emotions and trust. She smiled gently, allowing him to unfold his story at his own pace.

  Falcon took in a long breath. “The clincher – the part when I was swept away by overwhelming love – was when she told me how upset she had been when my favorite hunting dog had died. I was ten years old when that happened. I had been desolate for months, mourning the loss of my pet.”

  His eyes shadowed. “I still remember every detail of the afternoon she recounted her memories to me. We discussed my beloved pet’s death on a bench by the tower window. Suddenly, Sheila was overcome by grief of the memory of my suffering. Here she was, a grown woman, and she sobbed as if her heart would break. I held her close, and I was lost. It touched me to my very core that she could care so much, after so long.”

  He paused for a moment, lost in thought. “We parted ways over ten years ago, and even now I still remember how it felt to have this brave woman crying in my arms, desperately sad, needing my concern and care.”

  “She must have been quite a woman,” commented Storm neutrally in a low voice.

  Falcon rolled his shoulders. His voice became brisk. “Well, that was a long time ago. We went our separate ways, and there has been nobody since. I got used to being alone, and the longer you settle into a routine, the easier it is to simply stay with it.”

  Storm quietly nodded. They rode on together through the fading light, both lost in thought.

  * * *

  The courtyard echoed with a chill breeze; the late October sun was pale as it rose slowly into the sky. Storm carefully stepped through her routine, trying to insert pauses into her actions for the sake of those watching. Falcon moved around her, working with his soldiers, guiding them as they strove to mimic her guards and strikes.

  Storm enjoyed the workout, and was equally delighted that Zach eagerly joined her afterwards, diving into his training with a zest she found quite admirable. By the time the lunch bell had rung they were again coated with dirt and glowing with satisfaction. Again Falcon was waiting for her on the front steps, a look of relaxed pride on his face. She wondered if he knew what she had been up to. If so, she was glad that he seemed inclined to let her continue with it.

  A true sense of contentment flowed over her as she sat at Falcon’s side at lunch, discussing the progress of the guards, embarking on a long discussion over the benefits of a high versus medium block with dagger. She found herself laughing, enjoying the gentle debate greatly. Suddenly she was immersed in the waking dream that this could last forever; that Falcon could remain at her side, be forever a part of her world.

  She wondered if Falcon had become caught in the same spell, for he stopped speaking, simply gazing at her, his eyes becoming tender.

  She knew it was a fantasy she could not indulge in for long – but only for a moment she allowed herself to become lost in it. A cascade of emotions built within her soul, an intense longing swelling in her heart. It could so easily overwhelm her …

  She wrenched her gaze from his, dropping her eyes to her hands folded in her lap, to the ring of blue forget-me-nots on her finger.

  A lightning bolt of warning flared through her chest, catching her off guard, drenching her with an icy cold alertness. She could not lose control of her emotions. She had to break free of the spell, to remember her vow.

  What vow?

  She shook her head, but the near-panic feeling remained. She drew to her feet, her legs shaking beneath her.

  “I need some air,” she murmured. “If we could head out now?” She turned without waiting on a response, and it seemed the flutter of a leaf before they were mounted on their horses, heading beneath the main gates. She urged Mercury into a trot, needing to be in motion. She drew in deep, long breaths, desperate to shake loose the feeling of fear and danger which had burrowed into her.

  Falcon was close at her side, his eyes on her with concern. She felt an almost overwhelming desire to turn, to lose herself in his gaze. She forced herself to maintain focus on the road ahead, on the path that lay before her. She urged her mount again, stretching him out into a canter, moving in a thrumming flow across the field beside the town. Finally the tension eased, her heart gentled its pounding, and she could lose herself in the fresh air and rich aromas of turf and meadow.

  A structure moved into view. They were heading toward the millhouse which sat alone at the far end of the village, nestled against the winding stream.

  A waving figure caught her attention; a blonde girl was on the far side of the stream, standing near the base of the woods. Something boot-sized was caught up in her arms. The child smiled merrily as Storm and Falcon approached the stream. It was Caroline, the leather worker’s daughter. She held in her arms something pinkish brown and wriggling.

  “Look at the cute piggy I found!” she cheerfully called out across the water. Her high pitched voice carried easily across the rushing stream.

  Storm had been reining in; her blood suddenly ran cold in shock. She took a closer look at the animal in Caroline’s arms, then urged Mercury into motion, driving him into the river. “Put that down!” she cried out at the top of her lungs, plowing hard into the current. Her horse reached the middle, swam for a few long strokes, then clambered up the other side of the river bank.

  She heard the loud squeal from the woods.

  She saw the charging shape of the mother boar.

  Caroline shrieked in fright, dropping the piglet and turning in horror. The piglet froze in panic.

  The mother catapulted in braying fury toward t
he blonde thief.

  Storm drove Mercury in hard, drawing her knife from her belt. She launched the blade at a midpoint between the boar and its target. The flash of silver startled the mother, turning her left, and the piglet bolted into action, fleeing toward her mother with a long, drawn out squeal.

  In seconds the two were swallowed up by the woods, lost into the shadows.

  Falcon thundered into the center of the clearing, sword drawn, his eyes sharp on the forest’s edge. Storm slid from her mount. She ran toward the girl, dropped to one knee, and quickly checked her over.

  “Are you all right? Did you get hurt?”

  Caroline burst into frantic tears, and Storm pulled the girl close, gently holding her. “It is all right,” she soothed her, her heart racing. “Everything is all right now.”

  Falcon was at their side in a moment. “Is she injured?”

  “No, just frightened,” reassured Storm, drawing Caroline into her arms and standing.

  “Thank God,” he sighed in relief. “We should get her back to her father.” He took Caroline and hefted her up onto his saddle, then mounted behind her.

  “Wait a moment,” requested Storm. She moved over to the glint of silver, pulling her dagger out from where it had embedded itself in the soft dirt. She wiped the blade before settling it into her sheath. In a moment she was back on her horse and the two were riding at a canter back up the river bank, heading toward the low stone bridge.

  It was only minutes before they pulled up at the leather shop. Theodore came running at the sound of his child’s wails, taking the still-sobbing Caroline down from the horse into his arms. He looked up at Falcon with wide eyes.

  “What happened? Is she all right?” he cried, drawing his daughter into a tight hug.

  “She is fine,” promised Falcon, “if only thanks to Storm’s fast action. Your daughter decided to play with a boar piglet.”

  “Oh, Caroline,” ground out Theodore, his voice caught between exasperation and concern. “You know better than that!”