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

by Shea,Lisa

  Harold looked out from the stables. “All gone,” he informed her. “Took all the horses early this morning and lit out.”

  Storm glanced between him and the open gates in confusion. “Where did they go?”

  Harold shrugged his shoulders and went back to sweeping.

  Storm wondered if there had been trouble and found it hard to concentrate on her sword work. Falcon could easily be injured … or slain. She imagined him in twenty different desperate situations, fighting for his life, and wished she could be by his side. She thought of all the things she should have said, should have done, when she had the time.

  She forced herself to go through the exercises; to keep herself busy. Finally she gave up in frustration. It was no use – every second of her attention was focused on the main gates, listening for the faintest sound of hoofbeat.

  Sheathing her blade, she climbed the ladder and stood on the parapets alongside two guards. They nodded at her in greeting, their eyes never leaving the tree line at the far edges of the landscape. Storm joined them in their silent watch.

  It was long after noon when they first heard the horses. They quickly glanced at each other to verify the sound. Storm’s heart was in her throat, desperate to know what had happened. A group moved into view, and with overwhelming relief she spotted Falcon’s form riding within the company.

  He glanced up at her as they passed beneath the wall, then he was on the other side. She restrained herself with tense nervousness, slowly climbing down the ladder and giving him time to talk with his men and guards. After what seemed an eternity the group dispersed, and Falcon strode over to her.

  Storm’s emotions were in a whirlwind. She struggled to keep her voice low and even. “Was it a bandit attack? What happened?”

  Falcon shook his head with frustration, stopping a few paces before her with a weary step. “We received an alert that a nearby village was under attack,” he sighed. Heather hurried over from the main doors with a large mug of ale, and he took it with a grateful nod, drinking half of it down in one long pull.

  “The news came just before dawn. We went out immediately to help, but it was almost as if they knew we were coming. By the time we arrived, the bandits had vanished.” He took another drink from his mug, looking into it morosely.

  Storm leaned back on the ladder, her heart sinking. “What were the losses?”

  “Two dead. Five others injured,” he recited in a tense monotone. He turned his face away from hers, his lips tight. “I just cannot understand it. Every time we have them within our reach, they melt away like butter in a hot pan.”

  Zach came over to stand beside Heather, his shoulders tight and hunched. Without looking up, Heather interlaced her fingers into his.

  Zach’s voice was low but steady. “We all know you do the best you can, M’lord,” he offered. “There are some who die – but there are many others you save.”

  If anything, Falcon’s eyes became more shadowed as he looked over at the young man. “Four years ago I rescued you from the bandits, but you returned to your village to find both of your parents slain.” He paused, then added more softly, “That is hardly something for me to be proud of.”

  He finished the ale in a long gulp, then handed the empty mug to Heather, his movements sharp and angular.

  “I am going for a ride,” he stated abruptly to nobody in particular. He looked over at Storm, and his gaze softened. “Would you like to come? I could use the company.”

  Storm nodded without speaking, and together they walked over toward the stables. Harold prepared fresh steeds without a word, his sallow face a mask of dourness.

  Once the pair cleared the main gates, Storm followed along quietly as Falcon turned his horse from the town and headed toward the woods. With the dark clouds overhead, they presented a somber, twisted canopy. She was suddenly nervous at the sight of the thick stand of trees.

  She pulled her horse to a stop for a moment, watching as Falcon was swallowed up by the darkness. She hesitated a moment, then shook off her trepidation and followed him into the dense gloom.

  * * *

  Falcon was quiet for a long time as the trees enveloped them, and a silence settled over the pair. It was not until they reached a small clearing that he spoke up.

  “I used to spend a lot of time here when I was younger,” he commented almost to himself. He pointed to a stream which gurgled under a thin layer of ice. “That was where I swam with my dogs. Not much time for that nowadays.”

  Storm felt overwhelming compassion for the man who rode beside her, lost in thought. She looked over at Falcon, noticing the slump in his shoulders; the looseness of his hands on the reins.

  “Surely, when things are quiet, you can take time whenever you choose,” she commented in a low voice. “You can allow yourself time to refresh, to renew your energies.”

  “It is not just the time, it is the inclination,” he countered in somber reflection. “So many borders and bandits, and there is just me.” He slowed his mount as they drew atop the crest of the hill. Falcon dismounted and stood in the steady wind, looking out over the valley.

  Storm dismounted as well, then came alongside him and gazed at the landscape in contemplation. The ground rolled down away from them, a series of hamlets stretching out to the horizon. She had seen a map back at the castle, but little realized how thin the forest was in this section, that the neighboring provinces were so close. She shivered at the thought, pulling her black woolen cloak close against the wind.

  Falcon’s voice came as if from a distance. “For so many years this forest served as a battleground, as we pushed their domains back and they came at us again. Every border is like this. I have spent years working on peace for each quarter. Finally, we will have a truce with the Walkers which is going to last. How many of those families have lost loved ones over the years? Much of the fighting in the east was Lord Walker, stirring up trouble.” He looked pensively off into the distance.

  Storm spoke softly. “Soon he will be your ally.”

  Falcon turned sharply, his movements angular. His voice ground in harsh tenseness. “Do you think I can believe that?” he countered, his face a mask of torment. “He has got me trapped like a covey in a bush. All evidence I hear from my townsfolk and my allies is that this man cannot be trusted.”

  He took a step toward her, standing before her. “Yet, I cannot refuse the offer he has presented, after all of these years of my pushing for a treaty. He has pinned me to a peace I cannot believe in.” His voice dropped down a key, and became shaky with emotion. “Trapped in a marriage I do not want.”

  Falcon’s hand moved up to trace the side of Storm’s face. His eyes smoldered with desire as he memorized every curve of her cheek.

  An answering passion swelled fiercely within her. He seemed so lost, so desperate. The desire swept through her, became an overreaching beacon - she wanted to ease his pain. She put her own hands on top of his, then gently slid her fingers up his arms, winding them tenderly into his thick hair.

  “Oh, Falcon,” she whispered huskily, her heart twisted with the agony that enveloped him.

  Storm drew in a shuddering breath. Every instinct in her body was screaming for her to leave. She felt as if she were being torn in two by a pair of wild stallions. Her overwhelming desire for Falcon grappled violently with a promise she knew was central to her being.

  Gazing into his agonized eyes, she reached a decision.

  With a long, shuddering breath, she set free the ties of her past. Whatever purpose the vow had served for her younger self, its time was done. Perhaps she had been abused, perhaps the vow had been all that had kept her safe. She was now an adult. She would choose to give herself to the man who stood before her, the man she loved with every fiber of her being.

  She flushed with passion as the truth of the statement echoed through every corner of her soul.

  She loved Falcon.

  Warmth infused her, bringing a glow to her face. She would give this gift t
o him. She would treasure this moment for all time. They were two willing adults. The memory of this day would sustain her through whatever life her future might bring, perhaps as a guard at the nunnery, perhaps a celibate nun herself.

  Her childhood vow had served its purpose. It was time for her to create a new vow, one to be with the man she loved, fully and completely, for the time they had left together.

  She twined her fingers more fully into his hair, then stretched herself up, brushing her lips against his. A thrill of passion burst through her, causing her to sigh softly in half agony, her body gently molding against his.

  Falcon’s eyes flashed with confusion. His voice ground out of him, guttural and hoarse, as he whispered, “Storm, are you sure -”

  She pressed herself against him more insistently, her mouth seeking his, the desire washing over her in waves. He groaned with desire, gave a low oath, then pulled her in tightly against him, his reserves seemingly swept away by the matching flood of powerful emotions.

  Storm was utterly overcome by the rush of passion sweeping through every part of her body. The feeling of Falcon’s strong arms wrapping around her waist was more powerful than she could possibly have imagined. Every movement seared into her memory.

  She opened her mouth to his kiss, each cell of her body ablaze with desire. There was no doubt in her mind that she had never been held or touched like this before. It could be that she never would be again. If so, she would let this day last her a lifetime.

  The kiss seemed to go on for an eternity, and Storm’s breath was coming in deep heaves when Falcon finally pulled back. He turned his face into her long hair, nuzzling her neck and holding her close.

  “Oh, sweet Storm,” he groaned in barely checked agony. “Were that I had met you even two months ago, I could have promised you much.” He pressed his head against hers, and she could feel his hands tremble as they swept down the length of her hair.

  His voice was hoarse. “These bandits, and Lord Walker, have got me outnumbered. I have got to ally with the Walkers. I cannot be the man you deserve. If we were to become a couple, even for a few weeks, the memory of our time together might hold you back from moving forward.” His eyes rose to hers. “From embracing the husband who waits for you.”

  He deliberately took a step back from her, then tenderly reached forward to brush her hair gently from her face. His face reflected the great torment he was in.

  Storm shuddered at his touch on her face and put her hand over his, holding it to her cheek. With her other hand, she reached out for him.

  “I know,” she murmured, her voice thick with desire. “I know you cannot make any promises. If it is only for one afternoon, then it will be enough.”

  Her eyes made plain the offer she was making to him.

  Falcon’s eyes sharpened again, then he turned away, his movements angular. “No!” He strode away from her and with one swift move remounted his horse.

  Storm felt as if she had been tossed onto a rocky beach after days in a stormy sea. She fought to bring her breathing back to normal, looking at the tense set of his back as he stared out over the valley.

  Her cheeks flared with burning heat. A deep shame coursed through her that she had been so curtly turned down. Was she that undesirable to him, that he would dismiss her out of hand?

  She turned her back to him, glaring at the open landscape. How dare he! How dare he judge her, after having almost openly courted her. Her hands open and closed, making tense fists.

  Many long, furious minutes passed, and eventually her thoughts released their wild whirling. Her breathing finally slowed, and her considerations took on some semblance of order. She looked down at her hands, at the ring on her finger.

  She gave a soft nod, accepting the truth. He was not disrespecting her. If anything, he was showing his high respect for her by acting with honor. He knew how fiercely they cared for each other. He knew, if they consummated their relationship, that she might never recover.

  Storm bit her tongue and wiped the tears of frustration from her eyes. She wanted him … but she would not beg him. If that was his decision, then so be it.

  Even with that thought, it took Storm a long while before the pent-up emotion eased out of her. The entire time Falcon waited nearby, avoiding her gaze, enveloped in tense silence.

  Finally an exhausted weariness took hold of her. She stumbled to her steed, mounting with effort. As soon as she was settled in her saddle, Falcon turned his horse without speaking, heading back up the path. She fell into step just behind him.

  The ride back to the keep was cloaked in silence. When they got to the stables, Storm dismounted and headed to her room without looking back. Once there, she sat on the edge of her bed, lost in thought until dusk settled over the town and the moon began rising high into the sky.

  Chapter 19

  Storm’s mind was settled when she awoke the next morning. Hours of introspection had allowed her to reach a decision. She could see the strain that her presence had put on Falcon. She could see the agony in his gaze and the turmoil in his heart.

  He deserved better.

  It was time for her to take the action she had recommended from the start. She should leave.

  When Falcon knocked on her door, she was ready for him. He came in with a haunted look, and she began speaking before he had opened his mouth.

  “I realize I have made things very difficult for you,” she stated, her voice tight. “Far more difficult than you deserve. You can hardly afford to have these issues in your life right now.”

  Storm’s throat closed up, and she forced herself to continue before she lost the will to say what needed to be said. “I will ready my things and take lodging in a local boarding house; I can pay for my room with hard work. Once Walker arrives with his group, I will leave with them. It is only a week away now.”

  “No!” cried Falcon, his voice tight with anguish. He took a step toward her. His breath came in a long draw as his eyes held hers. “We have a week left. One week of memories to last us a lifetime.”

  His jaw tensed, and he took her hand in his own, looking down at it. “Who knows what your life is like at the nunnery. We have seen how you flinched from even the slightest of contact. The world you are returning to could well be harsh and unforgiving.”

  His eyes rose to hold hers again. “Let this time here in my keep be an oasis – a brief respite from a life of pain. I would not take one day of that from you. You deserve -”

  His eyes shadowed, and he looked away.

  Storm’s throat tightened. She could barely speak. “Falcon … I cannot stay …”

  His eyes swept back to hers, and she was enveloped by the desire which glowed in them, by the matching call within her own heart. His voice was hoarse. “Once you see what your previous life had been like, you might indeed choose to stay here with us,” he countered. “Mary and the others have spoken to me about how well you fit into our life here.” His hand wrapped into hers. “You could help train the younger soldiers, or simply help out around the castle, whatever pleased you. You would be well cared for and offered a quiet, restful life.”

  Storm was drawn by the strong pull of the idea. She could remain in the keep, remain at his side …

  Reality slammed into her.

  “And Laura? How would she feel about this?”

  He turned away at that, his eyes staring out the window in tense quiet. “You never know. Laura … she might enjoy having you around, to keep her company.”

  He drew his gaze back to her, tender and haunted. “We are adults, and I will speak plainly. Yes, I crave you with all my soul.” He flushed, but with a visible effort pressed himself to continue speaking. “I swear to you that I can keep my desire under control. I would not lose you because we cannot be married. I would treasure you as a valuable member of my household; someone to talk with, to spar with, to ride with.” His face went pale, but he continued. “When you find another to love, another man to marry, I would bless the union and w
ish you the best of joy.”

  Storm turned away, feeling the impossibility of it. There could never be a man in her life like Falcon; never a man whose presence overwhelmed her senses, whose eyes saw into the core of her being. She knew that remaining in his household would be a daily torment, one she did not know whether she could bear.

  Falcon’s voice was wound tight with emotion. “We have at least this one week to be together, before any other decisions need to be made,” he pointed out. “Please, I have so little to look forward to, between this marriage and the truce which may destroy everything I have struggled for. I only ask for one more week.”

  Twisting agony ripped at Storm’s core. Her love for Falcon warred against her thin layers of self-preservation. She knew there was no way she could remain in the household once he was married. The sight of Falcon holding his wife’s hand, riding out with her, would be more than she could bear. Every moment would be agonizing torment.

  She drew her eyes up to meet his; matching passion and hopeless pain echoed in his gaze. A shuddering tremor coursed through her, and she slowly nodded. He had this one week left before he consigned himself to a loveless marriage, to a truce which could very well break him.

  She would do what she could to make this one last week a memory which would last them both a lifetime.

  “I will stay the week.”

  He was drew her in, holding her against him. She became lost in his embrace; her eyes welled with tears and all outside thoughts vanished. It was only his strong arms around her, his cheek against her forehead, his broad chest sheltering her.

  Finally he drew back from her, maintaining her hand within his. He guided her down the stairs and into the main hall.

  Storm drew her gaze along the tapestries as she passed them, tracing out the history of Falcon’s life. Her eyes were drawn to the last one, the one his mother had been working on when she took her own life. Another woman would take up that thread, would continue on the journey with Falcon.