Unbidden (The Evolution Series)

by Jill Hughey

  He had put her off balance that night with his inappropriate touches and twisted justifications. She must be on her guard against him, even if his physical touch had, for a few moments, both thrilled and tempted her. She’d never experienced anything like it, yet it was no wonder she’d been vulnerable considering the day she’d had leading up to that dinner! And she had found it very difficult to sleep the last two nights due to her excitement at returning home. She caught herself staring into space several times yesterday with the tips of her fingers stroking her opposite wrist because...well, she could not explain that, but she was through with any genial thoughts of him now. She reminded herself that by the end of that evening she had been resolved against him again. Firmly resolved. It was time to return to Alda and become the young woman she knew herself to be: hardworking, responsible, and permanently unmarried. As such, she must be careful to offer no more encouragement to David of Bavaria. She certainly hoped he had no expectation of holding hands again.

  Gilbert and Marian came out the door carrying the last of the provisions to add to the pile along the wall of the house. Most of their things would ride in Theophilus’s cart, as would Marian for much of the trip, though she had her own horse tied next to Gilbert’s.

  “Is that a wolf?” Marian asked anxiously, pointing down the street.

  A thin canine shape trotted a zigzag path toward them, nose to the ground to catch every scent the road had to offer. Rochelle squinted at it as her mother instinctively backed toward the safety of the house. The animal’s size and build were about right for a wolf, but its ears flopped at the side of its head cheerfully.

  “Magnus!” a man’s voice called. The dog stopped to turn its head to the sound, fluffy tail wagging. Rochelle’s heart skipped a beat as her stomach sank. The voice was David’s. She fixed her face in an expression of indifference as he came into view, mounted on a heavily built horse that surged through the gloom. When he came abreast of the dog, apparently named Magnus, the creature set in motion again, staying next to David’s horse. Theo and the men who had accompanied Rochelle to Aix followed David, also on horseback. Rochelle could hear the rumble of a cart following them.

  David pulled up in front of her to lean on the high pommel of his saddle. His horse was magnificent, black from head to tail, though the winter coat was starting to fill in with shaggy tufts. “Good morning, Rochelle,” David said, his face set in serious lines. “You look ready to travel.”

  She glanced down self-consciously at her traveling clothes. She wore a voluminous brown wool tunic caught at the waist with a plain leather belt. A heavy wool cloak, tied at the neck, nearly dragged the ground around her. She’d covered her hair with dark blue linen. She wore no gold or jewels. It might not be an attractive outfit, but it was comfortable for riding.

  “I prefer to be inconspicuous on the road,” she said, sounding a little defensive even to herself.

  “A wise decision,” he replied as he slid off his horse.

  A wet nose pressed unexpectedly into her palm. She startled gracelessly to one side.

  “That is Magnus,” David explained.

  “Hello, Magnus,” Rochelle said with a smile for the dog. She ruffled the thick ruff of fur at his neck. He panted happily, then turned to sniff the assortment of parcels on the ground. “Is he yours?”

  David chuckled. “You could say that. He adopted me several years ago. He seemed determined to hang around. so I trained him.”

  “To do what?”

  “Magnus, stop,” David said, as explanation. The dog stopped his sniffing to turn expectantly. David pointed at Rochelle. “Guard,” he said. Magnus trod back to Rochelle, sniffing her for a moment before sitting beside her. Rochelle looked at David questioningly.

  “I told him to protect you,” he said. He bent to inspect the feet of Gilbert’s horse.

  She glanced down at the dog. He didn’t seem to be doing anything special, just sitting there smelling the air and, well, being a dog. She shrugged, then walked to help load the cart. As she turned from transferring a few parcels, she noticed Magnus waiting behind her. He had moved silently and still didn’t seem especially interested in her. She glanced over at David who had his fingers under the girth of Gilbert’s saddle, but was watching her reaction to Magnus with a slight smile on his face. She patted Magnus’s head awkwardly. “Good dog,” she whispered, not exactly sure why.

  When David moved toward Denes, Rochelle hurried over. “I have checked him. He is ready to go.”

  “I am sure he is,” David answered as he picked up Denes’s left front foot. Denes turned his head, his ears peaked with curiosity toward the unfamiliar man at his side. David patted his neck reassuringly before moving to his rear foot.

  “If you are sure,” Rochelle said quietly, “and I am sure, then why are you checking my horse?”

  “Habit.”

  Rochelle shook her head. “You cannot have any habits about my horse. There are no habits between us. We have no habits!” Her voice had risen precipitously.

  “We have to start somewhere,” he said with authority. “Shall I lift you up?”

  “Are we ready?” she asked, startled.

  They were. Everyone had been very busy while she’d been petting Magnus and arguing about who checked her horse. The cart was loaded, with a soft area of their bedding prepared for Marian who was climbing in with Theo’s help.

  This was not how today was supposed to begin. Today was the day she regained control of herself and her life. Yet she’d already lost track of the simple task of preparing her own party to leave. “I can mount my own horse,” she said rudely. “The mounting block is right there.”

  “What would your mother think of me if I let you do that?” David slipped his hands beneath her cloak to grip her firmly around the waist. He hoisted her, his neck cording in a distracting way. She placed her hands on his shoulders for balance as she slung one leg to the other side of the narrow saddle. His muscles flexed as he lifted her carefully over the saddle to settle her on Denes’s back. She fussed with the extra cloth of her tunic to arrange it over her legs.

  “Oh!” she exclaimed, when David tugged the excess of her cloak from under her bottom to drape it over Denes’s rear. As he handed her the reins, their hands met and clung for an awkward moment. He squeezed her fingers, sending a bolt of heat up her arm. As if by reflex, she pressed in reply. He smiled, a hint of satisfaction in his eyes, and she cursed herself for her weakness. This was exactly what she was not supposed to be doing, yet she dare not say a word, or he would know beyond the shadow of a doubt that he had again gotten the better of her.

  Thinking very carefully of what direction was south, she urged Denes into a brisk walk. If nothing else, she would create the illusion that she’d decided it was time to go.

  Rochelle was glad to see the city disappear behind her, even if some extra baggage had attached itself to her party. She would always remember the wonder of the beautiful chapel, but the memory of it was spoiled by the betrothal contract she’d been forced to sign within its marble walls. Now, days of arduous travel lay ahead with the very man who had compelled her to do it. Days with nothing to do but watch the scenery go slowly by, and avoid all interaction with an exasperating Bavarian.

  David had been watching Rochelle from behind since they left Aix hours before. She sat the horse well. Her intelligent and well-trained gelding remained attentive to her commands long after their group had settled into a plodding pace. She seemed to talk to the beast incessantly. His ears turned to her voice as if eager for the next bit of wisdom she would impart. Even Magnus, jogging along beside, peered up at her occasionally, and was each time rewarded with a small comment David could not hear. The dog’s tail would wag and he’d be happy for the next league or so.

  Unable to resist any longer, David trotted up to ride beside her. She glanced over and scowled. His stallion, taller and heavier than her gelding, pranced a bit before quieting. Rochelle leaned forward in her saddle, as though hoping t
o move Denes ahead, but Theo and two of the other men rode abreast before her, blocking any escape.

  “That is a good mount,” David said. Although it was the truth, he also knew a compliment to an obviously beloved animal could do him no harm in his wooing of her. And he had decided to woo her. Her words last night about being forced to make an impossible choice had influenced him. She had been placed in an untenable position by politics. How could he, or anyone, expect her to accept it in one day? Maybe some other weak-kneed girl would, but not Rochelle.

  “Yes, he is a fine horse,” she answered stiffly.

  “What is his name?”

  “Denes.”

  “The Greek god? Or was it a mountain?”

  “Both. My father named him. He was my father’s horse.”

  “It is a good name. Mine is Woden, coincidentally enough. Named for a pagan god.” David patted the stallion’s thick neck. “I say it particularly loudly when there are priests about.” He finally earned a slight quirk of her lips, though she continued to stare straight ahead.

  “Most women ride mares,” he observed.

  “I had a mare once, when I first started riding the estate with my father. He thought I should have her.”

  “You did not like her?”

  Rochelle shrugged indifferently. “I found her to be overly twitchy when she was in estrus. Which seemed to be all the time.” Ahead of them, Theo choked.

  “I agree,” David said quickly. “Mares are unpredictable.”

  Rochelle turned to study Woden. “But stallions can be also. He is handsome, but a brute of a thing. Do you take him to war?”

  “I do.”

  “Is it dangerous?”

  David decided to interpret her question as applying to his horse. “We do not generally ride into battle. Our horses just get us there with all our weapons and armor.”

  “I suppose that is why he needs be so large.”

  “Exactly. And because I would look ridiculous with my feet dragging on the ground.”

  Rochelle smirked again. “Does he ever try to run off with you? I have heard stallions can be hard to manage, though I have never ridden one myself.” Theo made a strangling sound. “Theo, do you need water?” she called. His waved a hand in reply.

  “He tried once, early on. We had a meeting of the minds and it has not happened since.”

  “A meeting of the minds?”

  “It is just a matter of establishing priorities. We have gotten along well since the day he understood he could have at the mares when he was not saddled, and especially when I was not on his back.”

  Rochelle finally laughed, emitting one reluctant giggle that seemed to brighten a very gray day. “I negotiated a similar agreement with Denes. He sometimes has to pull a cart and it tweaks his pride. Afterward, I take him on a glory ride all over the estate so he can regain his dignity.”

  David nodded. She understood the male mind quite well.

  “Work comes first, Woden,” she lectured. “Then, the rewards.”

  “One can only hope,” David agreed, thinking more of himself than his steed.

  They continued to ride companionably, including Theo in their widely ranging conversation. They did not discuss anything too personal. David purposely guided their topics away from marriage and Alda so that Rochelle could get to know him as a regular man instead of the main character in the nightmare into which she felt she’d fallen.

  After the midday meal, satisfied with his progress and not wishing to push his suit too hard, he took a turn riding ahead of the group. Near dusk, he found a clearing where they could spend the night. The clouds were breaking, so they decided to forego the tents in order to save time packing up in the morning. The men gathered wood and started a fire while the women selected the food for dinner. The conversation around the fire was friendly and lighthearted, but full stomachs and the rigors of the day soon drove them to find their bedding.

  David had spent many a night sleeping on the ground by a fire. He had never, however, shared his campfire with women. When Rochelle and Marian crept off through the trees to attend to personal matters, he had to be satisfied that Magnus followed them. Still, he waited anxiously at the edge of the firelight until they reappeared. Rochelle’s veil had been replaced by a little white cap with all her hair stuffed under it. She still wore the brown tunic, the removal of the cloak and belt her only change in preparation for sleeping.

  His hands itched to feel the indentation at her waist again. He sighed. Time was his ally, yet the days or weeks stretching before him until she was his wife began to feel interminable.

  Pretending to stare at the fire, he caught a glimpse of her stockinged feet and thin ankles as she slid into her blankets, leaving her short, sturdy boots by her bedding. She lay on her back and closed her eyes with a satisfied yawn. Magnus curled up next to her. Her hand absently reached out to stroke his back. Oh, to be laid so low as to be jealous of one’s dog, David thought as he reluctantly moved to his own bed.

  Some time later, when the fire had burned low and all appeared to be asleep, a tremendous snore rent the quiet. David watched Rochelle prop herself on one elbow to peer around the poorly lit camp. “’Tis only Theo,” David whispered, effectively freezing her in profile to him. The glint of her eyes showed as she shifted them to bring him in view. “He snores like that almost every night.” As if on cue, another blare sounded. “I, on the other hand, do not snore at all. I am a profoundly considerate sleeping partner.”

  Rochelle frowned. “Why would I care?” she retorted before she turned over with her back to him.

  David smiled.

  Chapter Nine

  The second day of travel dawned with much more promise. The sun filtered through the trees from a clear blue sky. A light coating of dew blanketed the clearing and their bedding, but was already drying as the journeyers ate a morning meal of bread and dried fruit.

  When ready to set off, David again lifted Rochelle onto Denes’s back, just as he had each time she’d mounted or dismounted yesterday, wordlessly reaching for her when she was ready. She almost enjoyed it, especially the feel of his shoulders beneath her palms. Curiosity had gotten the best of her since last night, when David had sat up from his blankets in a short sleeved under-tunic, the loosely laced ‘V’ at his throat gapping to show the top of his smooth chest. So, this morning she couldn’t help but press her thumbs lightly into the padding of muscle when David hoisted her up to her saddle. Perhaps she wasn’t as subtle as she thought, since he paused for a second with her dangling in midair as she tested his firmness like a ripe peach, before he settled her on Denes.

  The sun shone between the nearly leafless tree limbs, providing a continuous play of light and shade. David rode with her again, asking general questions about Alda. Although initially cautious with her answers, she soon warmed to the topics of raising crops and caring for her tenants. He seemed genuinely interested, so she found it surprising when he broke off from her in the afternoon, dropping to the back of the group by himself. At dinner, he was rudely silent, after which he took his blankets some distance from the fire to sleep.

  While she certainly didn’t seek his attentions, Rochelle couldn’t help but be a little miffed at his sudden abandonment. The clear night soon became quite chilly. She herself rose once to feed wood onto the fire. Men were apparently immune to both the cold and Theo’s trumpeting snores.

  In the morning, David roused slowly. As he helped her onto her horse, she sensed bands of tension radiating from his neck across his shoulders. Even though she barely knew the man, her instincts told her something was wrong. “Is something amiss?” she asked quietly as he handed her the reins.

  “Of course not,” he replied through clenched teeth. He turned away.

  Rochelle reminded herself that she welcomed his indifference. She enjoyed the solitude, riding in the dappling sun while purposefully forgetting about him. He drew her attention after several hours when he moved forward to dig through the cart, reaching acr
oss the side while still mounted. Marian offered to help. He shook his head curtly, rummaging among the parcels until he pulled out a leather helm such as one would wear in a battle. Settling it on his head, he rode to the front of the group.

  Rochelle wasn’t sure what to make of it. Marian looked back at her with the same question in her eyes. Rochelle could only shrug. She guided Denes up to Theo, who was staring at David’s back with a worried frown.

  “Why is he wearing that hat?” Rochelle asked softly.

  He hesitated. “Oh, uh, he does that occasionally, when the sun is bright.”

  “I see,” Rochelle answered. She didn’t, really. She watched David’s back. While he still sat admirably in the saddle, his shoulders hunched and his head sagged as though he were weathering a great storm. His face, when she’d seen it at the cart, had been carved in stiff, unmoving planes. When a flushed bird caused Woden to sidestep slightly, David’s entire body tightened against the jarring.

  “He is in pain,” Rochelle hissed to Theo. “We must stop.”

  “No!” Theo whispered harshly. “He will not stop, and he will not admit to these other men he is in pain. Just leave him alone.” Theo belied the severity of his words by giving her a sad shake of his head.

  “Did he have an accident yesterday? What happened?”

  “I cannot tell you,” Theo replied flatly.

  “You mean you will not tell me,” Rochelle corrected.

  She watched David for another quarter hour. She cursed male pride while trying to deduce a way to get him some relief, without drawing any attention to him. Finally she hit upon something. “Oh Theophilus,” she called breathlessly, “I feel quite faint all the sudden. Do you think we could make our first stop a little early today?”

  “Certainly,” he nearly shouted, obviously relieved. “Ladies need a break! We will have to stop early!”