Perhaps she should simply refuse.
“What do you mean?” she asked.
He looked puzzled. “You know—friends.” His fingers lingering, he released his gentle hold on her and sank back on his heels. He rubbed his palms on his thighs, as though trying to erase the feel of her.
She nodded. “I hear the word. I just want to know what you mean by it.”
Of a sudden, Swen’s gaze dropped and a flush tinted his tanned face. “Oh, Anna…” He laughed, and the merriment in his eyes when he glanced at her face made her blush as well. He rose to his feet and reached over to tweak the end of her braid. “Get your mind from the midden, woman,” he chided, his voice, too, filled with laughter. The sound of it eased her embarrassment. “I said friend, not—” he wiggled his eyebrows, then dragged his gaze in a leisurely sweep from head to toe “—friend.” The look on his face, and the way he drawled out the word the second time…He invested it with such meaning that when she blushed again the wave of heat rolled over her entire body.
By the saints, if he’d meant that scorching glance, she’d have melted right off the chair and into a steaming puddle at his feet!
Two could play at this game. Anna slid from her seat and stood before him. Shaking her head woefully, she tugged on the front of Swen’s tunic. Instead of pulling him closer to her as she’d intended, she found herself pressed flush against the unyielding wall of his chest.
No matter—the effect was what she sought. “I cannot be your friend, Swen Siwardson.” She flattened her hands on his chest and stood on tiptoe. Holding her breath, she brushed her mouth against his. Though she’d intended to step back at once, she had to force herself to ease away from him. “But I will be your friend,” she added, hoping he wouldn’t notice how breathless her voice had become.
He clasped his hands about her upper arms and put more space between them. To judge by the odd look in his eyes—no amusement now—she feared her joke had fallen flat.
But his rueful smile eased her mind, though it did little to calm her still-racing heart. “I thank you, my friend.” He turned abruptly and strode across the room.
Had she offended him? she wondered as he reached for the latch.
He opened the door, then paused, turning to look back at her. “For everything,” he added. Giving her a quizzical smile, he stepped through the portal and closed the door behind him.
Two days into his “friendship” with Anna, Swen couldn’t decide if he’d suddenly arrived at a point in his life where he allowed his nether parts think for him, or if he’d simply gone insane.
What other reason could he have for staying? By the rood, he’d even volunteered! He’d decided long ago to never remain in any place once he became so emotionally attached to the people he met that he began to dream of them. The lesson had been hard-won, but he’d learned he could not remain for long in the presence of those he cared about. After the disaster he’d caused within his own family, ’twas a mistake he dare not repeat.
The fear that he might bring some harm to Lord Ian and Lady Lily had forced him from Gwal Draig a month ago. The things he’d seen…He simply could not remain to discover if what he’d envisioned came true. He knew from experience that the hurt of leaving them, coupled with the humiliation he felt at running out on his responsibility to them, would not fade for a long time.
If it ever did.
So what had he done? Jumped headlong into a situation more fraught with the danger of emotional attachment than ever before—and one with less chance of attaining a happy resolution.
Whether the abbot realized it or not, he’d chosen well in approving Swen as a guardian for Anna. Whatever his other faults, he had retained his honor. At times it seemed ’twas all he had; he would not besmirch that honor by harming Anna in any way.
She would remain chaste in his company.
Though it might just about kill him to leave her alone.
He already realized that the more he was in Anna’s presence, the closer he came to achieving a degree of lunacy unmatched by any he’d ever known.
He spent most of each day working with William to evaluate and improve Murat’s defenses, or training all the able-bodied men of the village—no matter their age or occupation—to defend themselves and the village with whatever tool or weapon available.
He and William had discussed what details they knew of the attack and how it related to the meager information Father Michael provided.
Perhaps suspicions better described what the abbot had told them, he thought, for how could they seriously consider the king of England as the force behind the attempt to abduct Anna? He’d heard many tales about King John—most during his time in the Dragon’s household, and none complimentary. But he found it difficult to believe that a powerful king, currently occupied with keeping his kingdom out of the hands of the French and a group of rebellious barons, would spare so much as a moment’s thought for an obscure artisan who lived hidden away in the Marches.
Certainly he wouldn’t bother to send men to abduct her, though the abbot had shared with them his reasons why he would never permit Anna to fall into King John’s hands—despite the fact that the king was the abbey’s most powerful patron.
He’d discussed Father Michael’s suspicions at length with William. Neither of them could imagine how the abbot had arrived at such a bizarre conclusion. Still, they had no other theories of their own to explain recent events, either. They decided to assume anything was possible, and to move on from there.
Although he’d kept busy, he could not avoid Anna—not that he wished to—but he tried not to purposefully seek her out. He knew the risks he took in spending time with her. Every time he was near her, he wanted her more; physically, of course, but he also found to his surprise that he took pleasure in simply being in her company. She had the most unusual vision of the world—and her place in it—that he’d ever encountered.
The joy she took in the most basic aspects of day-to-day life astounded him. He’d soon realized that she’d spent most of her life mewed up within the confines of her workshop and her work. She focused upon her art so completely that he suspected she knew very little about the villagers and how they lived, or even of how much they did for her so that she might practice her art unhindered.
He didn’t believe ’twas arrogance on Anna’s part that caused her single-mindedness, but a complete ignorance of any other way to live.
Despite the fact that he didn’t know her well—yet—he could tell that the attack, and the deaths of Ned and Pawl, continued to trouble her. Every time they gathered in William’s hall for meals—usually after Bess bullied Anna into leaving her work long enough to eat—he saw how Anna seemed to take note of the most everyday things as if surprised by them.
But that was about to change, he vowed.
As Anna’s friend, he refused to stand by and watch her retreat with her “gift” into the fastness of her workshop, oblivious to God’s gifts all around her.
She might as well have taken vows and joined the Church herself, he thought with disgust, for the Church had taken away any chance she had for a life of her own.
He’d never seen a more heartrending situation than this—that such a beautiful and talented young woman should be for all intents nothing more than a bondservant to the abbey.
After Father Michael’s lecture—Swen could think of no other word for it—about leaving Anna alone and protecting her chastity and her art, he’d felt such anger. He might as well be guarding a wagonload of gold! Didn’t the abbot realize that Anna was a person—a woman—with a woman’s thoughts and feelings?
There were times he wondered if Anna realized it.
He doubted that his newfound friend had any idea what his friendship meant. Oh, he’d leave her be, protect her purity—and thus her art—if it killed him. He’d promised the abbot he’d respect her chastity. He groaned; ’twas his misfortune that Anna seemed to have no clue about that aspect of protecting her gift. Unfortunately for him
, he found her innocent attempts at temptation more enticing than the wiles of the most practiced courtesan.
But he vowed to ignore his rampaging lust; instead he’d acquaint Anna with the world and people around her. That would be his gift to her, for however long their friendship lasted.
If ’twas torture for him, then so be it.
He could survive that, as long as she didn’t begin to haunt his dreams yet again.
That night after supper Swen returned to his lodgings in the hut next to William’s home and collected several fairly straight pieces of wood he’d found in the woodworker’s shop. The man had been pleased to trade them to Swen in return for his help with the task of strengthening the palisade.
The wood balanced upon his shoulder, Swen strode along the empty street through the fading daylight, then veered between two large storage barns and down the path to Anna’s workshop. When he rounded the neighboring building, he saw bright light gilding the cracks in the shutters, closed now against the night.
Just as he’d thought—Anna was still up, hard at work no doubt. Did the woman never rest, or take time for herself?
He’d already noticed that rather than retreat to her room above the shop after supper, she returned to her work—despite the fact that her assistants had left for the day. The past evening he’d kept watch over her in the shadows outside her shop well into the night—nearly time for his replacement to arrive—before she finally doused the lanterns and sought her bed.
Tonight he intended to move his post within and join her in her workshop. If ’twas the desire for solitude that sent her back to her labors each night…He grinned and shifted the wood off his shoulder. He’d show her the pleasure of sharing her time, and her thoughts, with a friend.
He knocked on the door frame. Then, not giving her a chance to admit him or deny him entrance, he opened the door, picked up the wood and carried it inside.
Anna stood near the worktable in the center of the room with her back to him, bent over her task as though he didn’t exist. “Good evening, milord,” she said, her voice calm. She continued to tap at a piece of metal with a hammer and chisel and didn’t so much as glance his way. “Did you decide to come inside where it’s warm to watch over me tonight?”
He’d scarce made a sound on the path. How did she know ’twas him?
And how had she known of the past nights’ vigils?
Shrugging away the chill of unease that danced down his spine, Swen crossed the room and propped the wood against the table.
“I assume you have some reason for barging into my lair without invitation,” she remarked as he came to look over her shoulder at her work. She laid aside her tools and stretched out her arms before her. As the fabric of her gown pulled taut, emphasizing the mouth-watering outline of her bosom, he fought the temptation to remain where he stood—to feel her press against him when she stepped back—and instead shifted out of her way so she wouldn’t bump into him.
’Twas a wonder she didn’t hear his body cry out in protest, he thought as he moved to put the table between them. He found the knowledge that he’d done the honorable thing cold comfort when he wanted so much more.
He realized he’d left the wood next to her, but he stayed put for the moment. “I’ve been watching over you for part of each night, ‘tis true,” he said. “And someone else will take over for me at midnight. We have decided that you should always have a guard nearby, in case the abbot’s suspicions are true.” He grimaced. “Someone is after you, that’s a fact.”
Anna walked around the table to join him. “Am I never to have any privacy?” she asked.
He could see her face clearly in the bright lamplight—see the strain, and the faint pleading look deep in her eyes. Was he naught but a churl, to intrude upon her like this?
Only one way to find out. “We don’t intend to get in your way, we’re simply here to protect you. You shouldn’t even know we’re about, for the most part.” He used his fingertip to wipe away a smudge of soot on her cheek. “Indeed, I don’t understand how you knew I was outside these nights past. Did you see me, or did I reveal myself in some way?” he asked, puzzled enough by her awareness of him that he wanted to know. Tonight he’d made no effort to hide his presence, although it seemed she’d known ’twas him before he’d opened the door. But the other nights…He knew he hadn’t made a sound. She couldn’t have seen him, either, for he’d been nowhere near the windows—
“Nay, I didn’t see you. Or hear you, if you’re concerned that you gave yourself away,” she added, her lips curved into a smile. “I had no idea there was another guard. I don’t understand it myself, but I can sense when you’re near.” She picked up a chisel from the table and focused her attention upon its well-honed blade. “And I can tell when you leave.” Setting the tool aside, she glanced up at him, peering around the veil of her hair as it slipped forward over her shoulder. “Strange, isn’t it?”
Was this another of her gifts? Perhaps ’twas a normal occurrence for her. “Has this happened before?” he asked, though he wasn’t certain he wanted to know the answer. It seemed to him that her “gifts” made his “curse” pale in comparison.
Or mayhap ’twas her simple acceptance of her unusual abilities that set his thoughts awhirl.
Anna gathered her hair together and began to twist the curling strands into a loose braid. “Nay,” she said, her voice so faint he could scarcely hear her. She looked away from his searching gaze yet again. “You’re the only person who has that effect on me.”
An image of Anna from his dreams filled his mind with the impact of a blow. She was the only person, so far as he recalled, who had ever appeared in his dreams before they’d met.
The shudder that chilled the back of his neck now made the earlier one seem as nothing. He couldn’t decide whether ’twas Anna’s abilities or his own that caused the reaction. Perhaps ’twas the fact that neither of them could be considered normal.
Lord knew, no one had ever considered his strange skills anything but a curse.
Swen shoved that thought deep within his mind, where it would not taunt him once more, and forced himself to return to the reason he’d come to see Anna. “I’m honored, then,” he said, mustering up a smile. “And pleased you didn’t bar the door before I arrived, since you knew I was coming.”
“Why would I do that?” she asked, her face reflecting her puzzlement.
“I was teasing, Anna.”
“Oh. I beg your pardon.” She shrugged. “Such subtleties are beyond my ken, I fear.” The end of her braid clutched in her hand, she scrounged among the bits of cloth and leather piled next to her work until she found a piece of string. “You’ll need patience if you intend to spend much time in my company,” she said as she tied off the end of the plait. “I know little of manners and niceties, or the nuances of how people relate to each other. Bess has often reminded me of that lack, though I don’t understand how she expects me to remedy the problem.”
Did she not? At the least, Bess must have realized that a solution had presented itself now—in the form of Swen Siwardson.
He was willing to help Anna improve her manners, he thought, suppressing a smile. How fortunate that his plans would dovetail so neatly with Bess’.
Swen walked around the workbench and picked up the wood he’d left leaning there. “I’d be pleased to give you however much practice you’d like. I brought this—” he indicated the wood “—because I wondered if I might borrow some of your tools to carve it. While I’m working—if you don’t mind my invading your shop—we could talk about whatever you’d like.” Lest she think he meant to force his way into her workshop, he added, “Or not at all, if you’d rather I left you to your own devices.”
Even as he waited for Anna to answer him, Swen couldn’t decide if he wanted her to accept his offer, or to refuse it—and him—outright. Did he truly want to spend more time in her company, to know her better—and thus recreate exactly the situation he’d fled too many times befor
e?
Yes, his heart replied. He’d take any crumb Anna had to give him, feast in the pleasure of her company, if he could only ensure her safety in the process.
And if he could manage to share a glimpse of his world with her as well, so much the better.
“Of course you are welcome here.” Anna tossed her braid over her shoulder and reached back to tighten the ties at the waist of her apron. “As are the other guards, should they wish to come in out of the cold. I’ll have no one stand about in the chill night air on my account,” she added, seeming offended at the thought. She met his gaze, her own containing a glint of challenge. “I don’t understand why I need a guard here, within the village wall, at any rate.”
“William and I agree that you do, Anna—that should be reason enough.” Swen raked his hand though his hair and fought back a wave of frustration. “As we told you before—you take care of your business, and let us deal with ours.”
As soon as the words left his lips, Swen knew they’d been a mistake. Anna took a step back, drew herself up to her full height and straightened her shoulders. He could see ’twas too late to call them back now.
He rested his hip against the edge of the worktable, folded his arms across his chest and gave in to the urge to grin in anticipation of the explosion fast approaching.
Nay, he decided as he took in the color tinting Anna’s face and the glow in her eyes. He was ready for whatever she might throw his way, be it words or objects.
She took a deep breath; he held his. Simply for the sight before him, he wouldn’t have taken back the words for the promise of heaven itself.
Chapter Ten
How dare he stand there, grinning at her like a fool, after the insult he’d so casually thrown her way?
“Tend to my spinning, is that what you’re saying, milord?” She tossed her head back and met the glow of amusement softening his pale blue eyes with a fiery glare of her own.
The Shielded Heart Page 8