She sounds like her.
“Come on.” Impatience now. “Open your feck— I mean…your eyes, would you?”
It is her!
Vadim’s eyes snapped open and he turned his head to face her. The sudden movement made Martha jump, her blue eyes wide and startled. But she recovered swiftly, and the brilliance of her smile drove the breath from his lungs.
She stroked his hair. “Hey, you.”
It really was her, kneeling beside the bed, touching him. Bright tears shimmered in her eyes.
For me?
“Are we good now?” she asked, her voice trembling.
Vadim frowned. “G-g-good?” His mouth felt slow and clumsy as though it belonged to someone else. How long since he had last spoken?
But his lack of coherence apparently delighted Martha. She clapped her hands together and smiled broadly at him. He could not for the life of him imagine why.
“Yes, good,” she said.
He liked how her eyes crinkled with the force of her smile.
“I mean, are we friends again? Shall we forget all the bad sh…stuff?”
He smiled back at her for the first time in forever. “Y-yes. We are…good.”
To his dismay, she covered her lovely face with her hands and broke into hiccupping sobs.
“I’m s-so s-sorry.”
He frowned, straining to make out her words.
“I…I can’t h-help it.”
He reached out to touch the wild waves of her hair and coiled one long rich lock about his finger. “Shh,” he murmured. “Come.”
Martha lowered her hands. Her face glistened with tears, lower lip wobbling perilously.
Vadim shuffled up, making room for her on the bed. He patted the mattress, offering her a place to sit more comfortably.
Martha took his hand when he offered it. To his surprise—completely misunderstanding his intentions—she—kicked off her boots and scrambled into bed with him, burrowing her face against his neck.
This unexpected intimacy made his heart to thunder. Smiling, Vadim folded his arm around her and balanced his chin on top of her head.
“Wife.” He puffed at her soft hair as it tickled his nose.
Martha giggled and snivelled, still keeping a tight grip on his hand.
He cleared his throat. It was frustrating to be unable to question her as he would like. Was this only a visit, he wondered.
“Stay?”
Fortunately, Martha appeared to understand.
“I’m not going anywhere,” she assured him.
“Good.” Vadim closed his eyes and was content.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Martha woke with a start, her memory flooding back. Vadim! She couldn’t believe it. She’d gone fallen asleep in his arms. The exertion of the early morning walk must be to blame. That, and last night’s drinking bender with Bren.
She inhaled deeply. He smelt so good. The familiar combination of leather and man-scent teased her nostrils. She burrowed her face deeper into his linen shirt, savoring the warmth of his body and the sound of his heart thudding reassuringly in his chest. She sighed, and the stress of the last few days ebbed away. He’s alive. Real.
She felt his hand stroking against her hair. Stifling a yawn with the back of her hand, she looked up at him. His dark eyes glittered, and his lips curved into a smile.
“Hi. Sorry about that.” Her voice sounded husky. “Was I asleep long?”
Vadim shook his head and trailed his index finger slowly down her cheek.
Bliss.
“Bren and I had a bit of a drinking session last night. She kept plying me with mead. I never realised it was so strong.” She knew she was waffling, but she couldn’t help it. The way he was looking at her was as intoxicating as last night’s mead. Beneath his intense scrutiny, she felt a familiar heat flushing her cheeks.
“Little…d-drunkard.”
She laughed because she couldn’t help it. Hearing his voice again filled her with such joy. Her heart swelled with love until her chest felt too small to contain it.
But this was love of a different kind. Although she still wanted him—all of him—her hormones had quietened down to a low roar.
Vadim had always been lean, but now he was positively thin, his muscles wasted. She could feel each one of his ribs beneath her fingers. She wanted to restore him to what he’d been before— to ‘fix’ him if she could. But it was his mental state that concerned her most. Why hadn’t he spoken to anyone before today?
He was still watching her, his eyes clouding with concern.
She turned up her smile dial to full again. “This will have to go,” she said brightly, running her fingers over his scraggly beard. “You look like a bad version of Seth.”
“Nag. Nag.” His familiar crooked grin returned. The one that said ‘rosebud’ to the killer butterflies in her stomach and commanded them to attack.
Sick or not, I still fancy the pants off him.
But this wasn’t the time. First things first.
Ignoring his frown, Martha scrambled from the bed and went to pull the covering from the solitary window. Vadim shielded his eyes as bright light flooded the room.
“Oh, come on, Vadim. What are you now, a bat? I know you like caves, but this is taking it to extremes.”
She returned to the bed and held out her hand. “Get up, you…what did you once call me? A slug?”
Vadim chuckled. “Sluggard.”
“Whatever.” She clasped his hand, pulling until he sat upright. “Elsbeth says your wound has healed, so there’s no reason for you to spend the rest of the day idling.”
Could he be suffering from post-traumatic stress of some kind? There was no way of knowing what was going on in his mind. She’d read the papers back home in the twenty-first century and watched programs on the subject on TV. Was PTSD even around in medieval times? Although she longed to know about the day he’d almost died, it was too soon to quiz him, and something prevented her from asking him about it.
Get him moving first. The other stuff will keep.
Martha opened the door and saw Seth sitting in the shade of the trees. She felt a stab of guilt. She’d forgotten all about him. What time is it? The sun was directly overhead. Lunchtime or thereabouts.
Martha ran down the steps and skipped outside. “Sorry we were so long, Seth. I fell asleep. Come on in, and I’ll rustle up some lunch.”
Seth opened his eyes and rose stiffly from the fallen tree he’d been sitting on. But he wasn’t looking at her. His gaze was on the tall shadow in the doorway of the cabin. Leaning heavily on his walking stick, Vadim slowly tapped his way down the steps.
“Vadim!” Seth strode toward him, arms open. “It heartens me to see you up and about, my friend.” The two men hugged and exchanged a couple of back-slaps. “How do you feel?”
Vadim nodded. “B-better.”
Seth’s jaw dropped. “You found your voice?” He blinked and glanced over to Martha, shaking his head in disbelief. “Truly, the power of a good woman is mightier than any siege engine.”
Vadim jerked his head in the direction of the trees. “Walk?” he said to Seth.
“Gladly.”
“Is this a boys-only thing?” Martha asked. The look they sent her was answer enough. “Okay. I can take a hint.” Walk must be code for a trip to the big boys’ room. Big? Her cheeks burned at her mind’s smutty diversion.
“Okay. You two have fun. I’ll go and see what I can find for lunch.” Right on cue, her stomach grumbled. Happiness was a very hungry business.
***
They were away for some time, long enough for Vadim to learn all the sorrow he had missed, adding to the burden of his heart.
When all the bitter words had been spoken, they returned to the hunting lodge in silence, retracing their path through the whispering trees. What more was there to be said?
Seth shortened his stride to keep pace with him. The older man’s eyes were red-rimmed and swollen, as were his own. Sylvie—his almost-
mother—was dead. Though his own eyes were now dry, his heart still wept tears of blood.
The circumstances surrounding her death were almost inconceivable. Sylvie had betrayed him. Her guilt must be genuine, for Seth would never wantonly defile the memory of his beloved wife. Even so, Vadim bore no anger toward her. He had loved Sylvie as a mother. Resentment was too heavy a load for him to bear, and she had already paid a high price for betraying them.
He prayed the Spirits would grant her peace. He had already forgiven her. How could he not when he had loved her so well? If Martha had not returned he might have felt differently. Despite his sorrow, a warm glow banished the shadows from even the deepest recesses of his heart.
Suddenly, he longed to be hale and whole again—and not only to court Martha. According to Seth, she had forged an acquaintance with Anselm during her time in Edgeway. That could not be mere coincidence.
His neck prickled a chill of warning, and he was not fool enough to ignore it. His treacherous litter-mate may already be hunting for her.
Curse my idleness. How can I protect her when I cannot even stand unassisted?
“M’lord? Listen.” Seth held up his hand and stopped walking, his head tilted in the direction of the hunting lodge, just visible through the trees.
From within the cabin came the sound of angry voices. Vadim exhaled. Female voices.
Seth glanced at him. “More trouble.”
At least it was not Anselm. Not yet anyway.
He was close enough to be able to discern Martha’s voice. Who was she quarreling with? Although he had not voiced the question, Seth answered it.
“As soon as you are recovered, I fear you will need to be harsh with young Orla, my friend.”
Of course. The other voice was Orla’s. As grateful as he was for all for all the maid had done for him, the weight of her devotion was as a band of steel restricting his soul. If Martha chose to behave in the same manner, however, her attentions would be most welcome.
He was still uncertain why she had returned. Out of pity, perhaps? That would do to begin with. Where Martha was concerned, he had no pride remaining.
At that moment, Orla flew out of the hunting lodge and stumbled down the steps—almost falling in her haste to be gone. With impressive force and accuracy, Martha pitched a cloak and basket at the girl’s departing back. “He’s my husband, not yours!” she cried.
Vadim’s eyes widened. He exchanged a glance with Seth who appeared equally surprised.
“I think your lady is reclaiming her territory.”
Vadim could only agree. Martha’s angry words filled him with hope. Perhaps pity was not all she felt? He looked at her and wondered. She stood in the doorway of the cabin, her cheeks flushed and her breast heaving. The soft green gown she wore flattered her shapely figure well.
From her vantage point, she stared down at Orla like an angry she-wolf, watching as the maid scrambled in the dirt gathering her scattered possessions. Even from this distance, Vadim recognised the warning in Martha’s eyes. He had felt its weight before.
Foolishly, Orla was not yet daunted by her adversary. “You will be sorry you ever came back,” she snarled. “Heed my warning and leave while you still may. Go back to your family.”
From the safety of the woods, Vadim leaned on his stick and watched the scene with interest. Unless it came to physical blows, he was reluctant to disturb the fair combatants.
Seth selected a tree to lean against, apparently equally content to watch. “Aye. Their claws are sharp now.” He looked pleased. “There is nothing like warring women to make a man feel alive.”
Vadim returned his attention to the cabin as Martha stalked down the steps, her attention fixed upon her quarry.
“Vadim is my family, you stupid girl. I’m staying. Get used to it.”
“Oh?” Orla’s laugh was a bitter sound. “Will you still want him when you learn that I have shared his bed?”
“What?”
“What!”
Although some distance apart, Martha and Vadim spoke in unison.
“Ask him, if you dare.” Orla stood up, her head held high, flinging back her hair like a glorious red banner. “If the errant wife does not fulfill her duty, a man cannot be blamed for looking elsewhere.”
A cold ball of anger formed in Vadim’s stomach. This had gone far enough. He made a move from the shadows, ready to confront Orla and her wild claims. But Seth laid a hand upon his arm.
“Words are all they are, m’lord. Jealous lies and poison.” The older man smiled. “Wait a little longer. See if Orla’s nonsense rewards you with gold.”
Vadim scowled. “Hmm?” Anger had him mumbling again.
“You might learn something of value if we let them be.”
Although it was not the honorable thing to do, Vadim conceded. So he remained where he was, watching with Seth from the dappled shadows.
Martha’s eyes were shut tight, her hands alternately clenching then flexing at her side. Orla smiled, apparently well pleased with the aim of her poisoned arrow.
To Vadim’s surprise, when Martha opened her eyes, she laughed.
“Poor Orla.” She shook her head. “You must want him very badly if you’re prepared to cheapen your name in this way. But what of Vadim’s honor? He values it more than anything.”
Almost anything.
“Do you really think he’ll be happy to hear how you’ve blackened him?”
“I speak the truth.” But Orla’s smile was gone.
“Really?” Martha took a step towards her. “Then you truly are ruined, aren’t you? No decent man will ever want you once word of this gets out.”
Vadim almost believed Martha was worried about Orla’s reputation, such were the gentle concern of her words.
“Your poor mother.” She advanced closer to the girl. “I suppose it’s only right I tell her about your fling with my husband. Maybe she won’t cast you out onto the streets?” Her eyes narrowed, shining with the light of battle. “But if she does, there’s a certain Mrs. Wilkes in Edgeway who might provide you with accommodation. But you’ll have to work for it, Orla. Mainly on your back, or so I’m told.”
Seth spluttered as he attempted to check his burst of laughter.
Orla, meanwhile, grew pale and took a step back. “And what of Vadim? Would you hurt him this way?”
“He’ll be fine, you silly girl.”
Martha’s lips curved into a lazy smile, and the sight of it aroused him, awakening a fire in his loins. Where had she learned to do that—in bed with a previous lover, perhaps? He ground his teeth and dug his fingers into the tree’s rough bark.
“Oh, he’ll suffer a few black looks from people, no doubt,” Martha continued, “but it’ll soon pass.” She was face to face with Orla now, but she looked relaxed. “It’s different for men, Orla. Didn’t you know?”
Orla took several rapid backward steps. “Will you take him back, m’lady, knowing how he has—”
“Bedded you?” Martha shrugged. “Oh, I’ll make him suffer for a while. My forgiveness won’t come cheaply. A few gold bracelets might advance his cause.” She gave another wicked smile.
Vadim shook his head. Why had he ever worried about Martha? She had all the graceful moves of a poisonous snake—beautiful but deadly. He had never admired her more than at this moment.
“What of love?” Orla demanded. “You have not spoken of it once.”
“Haven’t I? How remiss of me.”
Vadim’s breath caught in his throat as Martha looked straight at him. Her eyes locked with his and held him there.
“Of course I love him,” she said softly. “Why else would I be here?”
His heart threatened to thunder from its cage. He knew her words were meant for him alone. The revelation rocked him to the foundations of his being. Seth chuckled and nudged him in the ribs, but Vadim could not look away from her.
Orla crumbled, defeated by Martha’s. “Forgive me for speaking so falsely, m’lady.” The girl
sank to her knees before her, all her poisonous barbs spent. “I must have been possessed by an evil spirit. Or a demon, perhaps?”
Vadim exhaled an uneven breath as Martha released him from her gaze.
“Demonic possession, eh? Whatever.” She extended her hand to help Orla up from the ground. “Up you get.”
Orla took the hand Martha offered her. “You never believed he was guilty, did you?” Her tone was that of a repentant child seeking forgiveness from its parent.
“No, I didn’t.”
Vadim dared not breathe as Martha looked at him again.
“My husband is capable of many things, but such a blatant act of dishonor is beneath him.”
“He must love you a great deal, my lady. I am s-sorry for what I said.”
At the word ‘love’, Martha dropped her gaze, her cheeks reddening. For the first time, she looked vulnerable, uncertain. “Whatever. Let’s leave it there. Go on home, Orla.”
The truth hit Vadim with the force of a trebuchet strike. She truly does not know I love her? But then, why would she? Almost from the start of their relationship, he had treated her despicably, blowing hot and cold by turn. His moods had been as changeable as the weather of a spring day. Accusing her of being the Earl’s spy had been the final cut.
Orla gathered her things and hurried away leaving Martha alone; the victor on the field of battle. Vadim saw her take a deep breath before she wandered back to the hunting lodge. She did not spare him another glance.
Throughout the meal, Vadim studied her, searching for proof to back up her declaration of love. How would she reveal it? In a look? A touch?
Martha made no mention of her quarrel with Orla, and neither he nor Seth was ungallant enough to introduce the subject. Instead, she regaled them with amusing tales of her adventures in Edgeway, while they ate. For some reason, she seemed reluctant to meet his eyes, frequently looking at Seth instead of himself.
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