Untying the skin from the saddle, he took a drink, then set it aside for when Thebe returned. When he looked back up, he could hardly see her through the tall grass and flowers.
“Thebe!” he shouted. “Return at once!”
Her brown curls bobbed above the flowers in the distance. Too far away. “Thebe!” Jarin took off after her, cursing himself for allowing the child to leave his sight. Yet surely there was naught to fear in such a beautiful field. He charged forward, noting a copse of pines in the distance.
A figure emerged from them.
A woman.
Thebe let out a yelp and headed straight toward her.
Chapter 36
“Thebe!” Jarin raced for the girl ere she ran up to a complete stranger. After what he’d seen with the wolves, he trusted no one.
But the closer he came, the more the woman’s beautiful features formed in his view. Cristiana?
He caught up to Thebe—several yards before she reached the woman—and hoisted the child into his arms. Halting, his breath heaving, he stared at the apparition of Cristiana walking toward him, all the while doing his best to restrain the little girl kicking and crying to be set free.
“Cristi!” she held out both hands to the lady, who smiled at them as she continued her approach.
No apparition. ’Twas the lady, herself! Jarin set Thebe down, and the girl dashed and leapt into the woman’s arms.
A joy he did not know possible bubbled through him as he walked toward them both, still attempting to catch his breath, along with his heart, which seemed about to burst through his chest.
Cristiana turned Thebe around, showering kisses all over the girl’s face. “I missed you, darling! I missed you so much.”
“Cristi, where go? Why leave?”
“I didn’t leave you. I was taken. But I’m here now.” She glanced at Jarin. She looked tired, but unscathed and as lovely as he remembered. It took all his strength not to take her in his arms and kiss her all over like she was doing to Thebe.
“How did you find me?” she asked him, clinging to Thebe as if she never wanted to let her go.
“We didn’t.” Jarin smiled and nodded toward Thebe. “She wanted to run in the field, so I…” Jarin remembered his prayer, then shook his head and put his hands on his hips. “In truth, I have no idea.”
“’Twas the Lord and the Spear,” Cristiana said, squeezing Thebe tight.
“What happened to you?” he asked, still not sure he wasn’t seeing things.
“Cedric LeGode.” Cristiana’s smile faded, and she reluctantly set Thebe down. The girl resumed her frolicking through the flowers, only this time squealing, “Cristi! Cristi!”
“Sir Walter’s son? The one you were to wed?”
“Aye, the same.”
“But the wolves...”
“His pets. He has turned to the darkness.” Cristiana hugged herself, staring off into the distance, her joyous mood dissipating.
Jarin rubbed his chin. “I don’t understand.”
“Dark powers. There’s a warlock at Luxley who trains him.” She swallowed and wobbled slightly.
Jarin needed no invitation to rush to her side. Wrapping his arms around her, he drew her close and kissed the top of her head. “Are you harmed?”
“Nay. He did not touch me.”
“Where is he now?” Jarin searched the forest behind her.
“I left him in a cave not far from here.”
His jaw tightened. “He released you?”
She looked up at him and smiled. “He had no choice.” Her nose wrinkled. “What is that smell?” She backed away from him and laughed.
He glanced at Thebe and shrugged.
“Sweet angels! You had to deal with her soiled cloth?” Her eyes laughed as she covered her mouth with her hand.
Jarin hid his embarrassment behind a smile. “As you can no doubt guess, I’m not skilled in that particular art.”
Chuckling, she glanced at Thebe picking flowers and drawing them to her nose. “Would that I could have witnessed your attempt.”
“I am glad you did not, for I prefer to maintain my dignity as a King’s Guard.” He gestured for her to return to him, surprised when she did without hesitation. He smoothed a lock of hair from her forehead, his eyes finding hers, searching within them, for what, he didn’t know. For life, love, truth…meaning. He found all of that. And much more.
“I thought I’d lost you.” He drew her against his chest again, inhaling a deep breath of her sweet scent and allowing it to chase away all his fears of the past days.
She grinned up at him, one eyebrow arched. “Finally free of the burden of our care. In good sooth, you must have been overjoyed.”
“Nay.” He ran a finger down her cheek, so soft, despite the smudges of dirt. “Quite the opposite, if I were to admit it.”
“And are you?” Her eyes moistened again.
He could resist her no longer. Lowering his lips to hers, he kissed her, kissed her with all the passion, love, and loss, that had been building within him. Kissed her like a man who would gladly pledge his troth to this lady and never regret it for a moment.
She met his passion with equal fervor, gripping his shirt, pressing against him, allowing his kiss to deepen, explore, love, and cherish this precious lady.
Sweet ecstasy! Jarin had never known a kiss could evoke such emotions! An overwhelming desire burned within him to become one with this lady, not only in the physical sense, but spiritually, emotionally, and in every way possible.
He withdrew his kiss ere he frightened her. Pressing his forehead against hers, he allowed their heavy breaths to mingle between them in silence.
“Jarin,” she breathed out. “What are your intentions, sir? For I fear should you kiss me like that again, I will lose my heart forever.”
♥♥♥
Cristiana’s heart balanced on the edge of a cliff, ready to topple over the side at one word from Sir Jarin—one wrong word. Pulse still racing and body yet throbbing from their kiss, she looked up at him. Wind tossed his dark hair about him, wild and free, like the man himself. His shirt flapped open, revealing his thickly muscled chest and arms. Yet fear appeared in his eyes. A mere flicker as he gazed away as if afraid to answer.
She started to push from him, her heart on its way tumbling down the cliff.
But he took her arm and drew her back. The fear in his gaze had been replaced by something…something deep and permanent she dared not hope for. “My Lady Cristiana, I can make no promises as of yet, but I will tell you—” He cupped her chin in his hand and then caressed her cheek with his thumb. “I love you. In truth, I have loved you since the day I met you at Luxley. ’Twas why I could not leave you be, why I volunteered to find you, why I have freely put my life in danger for you and the child.”
Inexpressible emotions flooded her, and she leaned into his hand. “I love you, Jarin. Promise or not, my heart is yours.” She could no longer deny it.
“Can you bear with me a little longer, my lady?” He leaned toward her, his breath drifting over her face. “I fear I must grow accustomed to the idea of having a wife.”
Wife. How wonderful that sounded. But if a man must grow accustomed…She stepped back. “I will not imprison you, Jarin. Love does no harm to another. Seeing you unhappy, I could ne’er live with myself.”
He reached for her but lowered his hand. “How could I ever be so with you in my arms?”
“You are a warrior, a man who loves his freedom, who fears the pain of loss that love can bring.” She wanted him to deny all, to bend his knee before her, take her hand and pledge his life and love to her forever.
Instead, he remained standing, confusion furrowing his brow and desperation burning in his eyes.
Tears blurred her vision. She quickly wiped them away when Thebe rushed toward her, a bouquet of flowers in her hand. “For you, Cristi! For you!”
Kneeling, Cristiana took them and hugged the girl tight. “They are beautiful, Thebe! Than
k you. I love them!”
The little girl beamed and kissed Cristiana on the cheek.
Sir Jarin’s jaw stiffened as he stared at the patch of trees behind them, and she knew the moment between them was lost.
“What is it?” she asked, rising to her feet.
“Cedric. You said he’s nearby in a cave?”
“Aye, just beyond these trees and over a hill.”
“Stay here,” Jarin ordered, gripping the hilt of his sword. “Hide in the trees. I’ll return anon.”
“Where are you going?”
“Forsooth, you cannot expect me to leave him free. He almost killed you. He would have killed you. He must answer for his crimes.”
Cristiana grabbed his arm, feeling the flex of his muscles beneath her hand. “Nay, Sir Jarin. Leave him be.” She glanced in that direction. “I am unharmed. Let him answer to God.”
“Enough of your kind heart, my lady!” He tugged from her. “If I do not end his life, he will come after you again.”
“Nay.” Tears glistened in her eyes. “He cannot touch me. Not as long as I have the Spear.”
He raked back his hair and snorted. “Why leave him unpunished? Surely, he’ll return to Luxley and fight against us.”
“Or he may not. He may repent and turn from the darkness.”
His expression softened. Releasing a deep sigh, he shook his head. “Another reason I love you, my lady. Your love for others—even your enemies—astounds me.”
She smiled, longing to be in his arms yet again, feel their strength around her, warm, loving, protecting. Longed for another kiss, one that made her feel so many wonderful things all at once.
The way he was looking at her now, he seemed to be of the same mind.
“Hungry, Cristi.” Thebe yanked on her skirt and stared up at her, and she and Jarin laughed.
“We should be on our way.” He jerked his head toward the road where their horses awaited. “And aye.” He reached for Thebe, and she leapt into his arms. “I will give you some bread to eat.”
Walking behind him, watching his strong, confident gait, the blade at his side and knife in his belt, reminded her he was a warrior at heart. And yet…the way he was smiling and talking with Thebe, so gentle and loving, caused a bittersweet feeling to flood her. Sweet because she was in love with him, and she doubted she’d ever feel this way about another. And bitter because she also doubted a man like Jarin could ever tie himself to a wife and family.
She would not think of it now. She must keep her focus on returning to Luxley with the Spear and aiding her sister in whate’er way she could in order to defeat Sir Walter and this warlock who had invaded their home.
If only Jarin would stop looking at her like he kept doing as they continued their journey on horseback, she’d be more successful at her task.
They passed through a small village, the inhabitants of which barely paid them any mind, then across a series of farms and forests ere the sun began its descent in the west. A chilled wind, ripe with the scent of earthy loam and spicy rain wove about them, and Cristiana folded her cloak tighter around a sleeping Thebe. A bank of dark clouds drifted over the sun, casting everything in gloom.
Jarin pulled back on his reins and raised a hand for her to do the same. Dust spun eddies over the ground in the distance. Thunder bellowed. Nay, not thunder. Rather, the pounding hooves of many horses.
“This way!” Jarin shouted, jerked his horse to the left, and sped across an open field toward a line of trees in the distance.
Cristiana followed, her horse tearing up the soil as they went. Thebe woke and clung to her. But there was nowhere to hide. No building or trees close enough to duck behind. One glance over her shoulder proved her right.
At least a dozen soldiers gained on them from behind.
Jarin saw them too, drew his sword, jerked the reins to slow his horse, and gestured for Cristiana to keep going. But she didn’t want to keep going. She wanted to stay with him.
He turned to face the soldiers as if he could defeat them single-handedly. He was highly skilled, a great warrior, but not even he could overpower such a force. And she would not see him die. Not on her account.
Pulling on the reins, she whirled her mount around. The animal thrust its front legs in the air, nearly toppling them, but finally settled. Thebe let out a frightened wail.
Jarin glanced back at them, a frown on his face.
But the soldiers were already on them, surrounding them, their horses agitated and foaming, their drawn swords shimmering in the light.
And their grins wide and victorious.
Chapter 37
A thousand horses stampeded through Cristiana’s brain, th-thump, th-thump, th-thump, th-thump, stirring up clouds of dust, obscuring her thoughts. Familiar scents assailed her—beeswax, lavender, freshly laundered linen, and….sick, putrid and foul. She moved her hand. A familiar softness brushed her palms. The spit and crackle of a fire met her ears, along with the whisk of wind past an open window.
With great difficulty, she pried her eyes open.
And terror like she’d never known ripped across her flesh.
She lay on a bed, decorated with four carved wooden posts and a gauze covering. A candle flickered from a stand to her left, whilst a lantern sat atop the mantel above a blazing fire. Two stuffed chairs perched before it atop a silk-embroidered rug. Tapestries and paintings lined the walls of stone that led to a narrow window through which a shaft of moonlight entered.
Her chamber.
Her chamber at Luxley Castle.
Reaching a hand to her head, she attempted to rise, but the ceiling spun, and nausea bubbled up her throat.
She was ill. Again.
Or was it still? She rubbed her temples as she tried to catch her breath. Nay, couldn’t be. She’d escaped nigh a year ago, had been on the run with Sir Jarin and…Thebe!
“Thebe!” she shouted, but her voice emerged faint and distant.
Forcing her eyes open yet again, she pushed herself to sit, no matter the nausea. Sweat moistened the skin of her neck and arms. Someone had dressed her in her nightshirt. Grabbing the chamber pot sitting on the stand, her stomach convulsed, and she spewed forth its contents, sparse as they were.
Tears spilled from her eyes as she wiped her mouth. This can’t be happening! ’Tis but a nightmare. Aye, that was it. She’d soon awaken in Sir Jarin’s arms with Thebe by her side.
Returning the pot to its place, she drew a deep breath and prayed to wake up.
The door squeaked open. She stared at it as if she were watching a play—with interest, but as one who was not a part of the scene.
Sir Walter LeGode swept into the room with the pomp of a king, wearing a brilliant purple velvet tunic slit at the sides to show his creamy undertunic. A silver belt hung about his waist embedded with rubies that matched the brooch at his collar.
“Ah, you’re awake, my dear.” He approached and leaned to stare at her as if she were some odd curiosity.
His face swirled in her vision, candlelight reflecting in his lifeless eyes.
“What am I doing here?” she asked.
He raised his hands and glanced around. “Forsooth, this is your chamber, my lady.”
A wave of dizziness threatened to force her back down on the mattress, but she would not give this man the pleasure. She closed her eyes. “Where are Sir Jarin and Thebe?”
“Who?”
Cristiana drew a breath. “Sir Jarin the Just and the little girl who was with us when your soldiers captured us.”
“My soldiers?” He chuckled, and she heard him walk away. “If you weren’t so ill, I’d think you cupshotten, my lady. Or mayhap ’tis but a dream you had, for you have not left your chamber in quite some time.”
Nay! Cristiana hugged herself. She would not believe it. She had escaped. She had been kept by Lord Braewood, rescued by Sir Jarin. They’d hidden in a monastery, then at Lord Quinn’s manor home, then the village. Then Cedric. Could it all have been a dream?<
br />
She laid a hand on her thigh where she kept the Spear. Gone. Frantically she groped with both hands over her entire leg.
“Ah, you are no doubt looking for that old relic?”
She gazed up at him. He stood at the foot of her bed, a supercilious grin on his face.
“The maids found it when they bathed you. No need for a refined lady as yourself to have such a filthy object strapped to your thigh.” He snorted. “Most unseemly.”
“What have you done with it?”
He shrugged and moved to the window where a faint glow began to push back the night. “As it turns out, the bishop is quite interested in it. Hence, I plan to give it to him.”
“’Tis the Spear of Destiny, you fool. And neither”—her chamber retreated to a tiny point and then expanded again as her head seemed to float toward the ceiling—“you nor that vile bishop will ever be able to keep it or use its power.” Blinking to clear her vision, she lifted the sleeve of her nightdress and focused on her wrist. The mark of the Spear was still there. She was still the protector!
“Indeed?” He smiled. “Alas, if the old thing is truly powerful, then why has it not healed you from your illness, my lady? ’Tis been in your possession for months now, I make bold to say.”
’Twas true enough. But she’d not been ill these past…she attempted to catch her breath. Alas, what if he spoke the truth—that she’d been in her chamber all along? And all the love she’d shared with Jarin and Thebe had been but illusions of her desperate mind.
Yet, if he was lying and she had escaped, the Spear had not healed her before she’d left. And it had not protected her from being captured…or had she been captured? She couldn’t think.
“Cedric,” she muttered.
Sir Walter moved toward her, eyes narrowed, and voice spiked. “What about my son?”
Memories of the cave, the wolves, and ravens, and Cedric’s attempt to take the Spear from her fluttered through her mind. Or had it merely been a dream? “He…he tried to get the Spear.” A blade sliced through her head, and bending over, she gripped her temples. “I don’t know.”
She Walks in Love (Protectors of the Spear Book 2) Page 29