by Jackie Ivie
“Oh, good. We understand each other. Once again.”
She lowered the hood without answering one way or the other. Then she turned her head aside as if to look over their horse’s head. It was an obvious effort to dismiss him. And that would have to do. He’d done what he set out to do. Put her back into the same category in which he held all women. That way he could handle her frame against his again. Held close. All night. He pulled in a huge breath. Looked at his right hand actually shake. He disguised it by reaching around her to grab the other side of the saddle, ignored the softness of her hip against his forearm, and lifted himself up and into place. The hard saddle bore a small uptick of rolled leather at the back, a knob of leather at his front. Rhoenne settled into place, before wrapping his left arm about her, to pull her into a secure berth between his legs. She was stiff and unyielding the entire time.
Rhoenne almost smiled.
“Someday I hope you’ll explain this to me.”
Rhoenne lifted his head at the soft words. It took a moment to awaken, another to comprehend. Cassandra had her knees tucked up beneath her, and she was snuggled against his chest. And he’d had his chin atop her head.
“All these dark hours. Awake. With naught to do...save ponder.”
Henry spoke again, the words soft, almost whispered. Rhoenne turned his head to the right and then looked down. Henry rode alongside, but he was a smaller man, and his mount was a good hand shorter than the horse Rhoenne rode.
Rhoenne mentally shook himself. Blinked on the realization.
He’d dozed?
“I mean, you were ever this way. Even as a lad. You wouldn’t stay in your tower chamber. We’d post guards, yet you managed to evade them more times than not.”
“Henry.”
“Remember the time we discovered you atop the dovecote? Your father was preparing for a clan war before we found you. And none could decide how you’d managed to climb there while fully asleep. I oftimes pondered what you saw in these long, dark hours.”
“Henry,” Rhoenne cautioned again.
“My laird?”
“What do you want?”
“Oh. I am having difficulty sleeping. And I knew you would be wakeful. So...”
“You decided to converse with me about nonsensical things,” Rhoenne supplied.
“More or less,” Henry agreed. “Perhaps you could help?”
“With what?”
“This mystery. I cannot fathom what it is about these night hours that would keep a man awake...unless he is on guard duty or leading a group of wanderers through danger-infested deserts, such as Grant up front there.”
“I like the solitude,” Rhoenne responded.
“Ah. Solitude. I have found that if one is of prickly temperament, large stature, and frightens off all save the most brave of souls, one usually earns solitude.”
“If you have a point, make it and have done.”
“I am just musing aloud. You know, at one time I actually wondered if mayhap wakefulness could be a learned skill...because of worry over what might ensue.”
Looking down briefly, Rhoenne muttered, “brave words, my friend.”
“True. One thing I have discovered about this. It is easier to be brave if it is a dark, moonless night, one is atop a horse, and the object of one’s pointed remarks cannot do much except glare.”
Rhoenne sucked in his cheeks. Considered Henry’s words. He should take offense. Think of a cutting reply. But something about the woman asleep in his arms made it difficult to even think about umbrage. He’d been regarding his man with a baleful look. He was surprised Henry called it a glare.
“Does she have a name?”
“Who?” Rhoenne asked automatically.
“Your woman.”
“She’s not—” Rhoenne stopped his own protestation. “Her name is Cassandra. Cassandra Alexa-something.” He was afraid his voice warmed on the name.
“So...is she bonny?”
“Henry.”
“Oh, come now. It’s the midst of the night. Everyone sleeps. I have little to occupy myself, except ponderings over why you fear sleep enough to forego it. The least you could do is satisfy a poor old man’s curiosity.”
“You are lucky I’m atop this horse with a woman asleep in my arms.”
“True. So conceded. So...is she?”
“Is she what?” Rhoenne asked crossly.
“Bonny.”
“Oh. Yes.”
“She’s bonny, eh?”
“Yes.”
“How...comely?”
“Henry.”
“You are the one who just whetted my curiosity. You could have kept telling me to mind my own business, but no. You had to tell me she’s comely. Well. Now I am very curious. So. Tell me. Is she as beauteous as France’s Queen Margaret?”
Rhoenne sighed audibly.
“When she was younger, of course,” Henry added.
“I believe I already commented that you spent too much time at the French court,” Rhoenne informed him.
“Not more than a year.”
“Closer to three.”
“Didn’t feel that long.”
“That’s because we’ve been out on crusade for almost two years, as well. Put it together.”
“We’ve been away from home a good five years. That does not bode well for a homecoming. Is that what you’re trying to say?”
Rhoenne didn’t reply. He didn’t like the answer.
“So. Are you going to tell me?”
“Tell you what?”
It was Henry’s turn to sigh, but his was exaggerated enough to put many a court jester to shame. “How comely your Cassandra is.”
“You are very persistent. I’ll give you that.”
“Ramhurst. I am your most trustworthy man. I would never betray a hair on your head. I’ve devoted years of my life to your service. Good years. Long years.”
“Is that supposed to mean something?” Rhoenne asked.
“I’m seven and thirty. Nigh two score. Auld age is around the corner. ’Tis time I settled down. Found a wife. Have a few bairns. Raise a few sheep. It would behoove me to find a...comely woman in this plan. Yes?”
“Don’t even think about it.”
“Think what? I merely muse on my future plans, and you get all prickly and possessive. And it’s not as if you want her...although, if you did return after an absence of five years with a woman in tow – and a comely one, I think Aileen would drop dead with the shock.”
Rhoenne’s back clenched. The rest of his muscles weren’t far behind. His belly burned next. His skull took the equivalent of a hammer blow. Then his chest joined in, feeling as if his heart was squeezed in a vice. He had to wait until the sensations ebbed enough to answer noncommittally. Even then, he didn’t trust his voice.
He held Cassandra’s sleeping form against him to lean left, searching with his right hand beneath his burnoose for the bag. He eased the drawstring open. Fished out one of her anklets. Brought his hand back out. Then held it out to Henry.
“What is this?”
“Take it. You’ll be handling the bargaining.”
Henry took the piece. Twisted it. Available starlight twinkled on the gems and gold. The man gave a light whistle of appreciation. “We will get passage easily with this.”
“That is but a taste, my friend.”
“A taste?”
“You wanted to know how comely she is. Well. Now, you know.”
“Holy Mary, Mother of God.”
“Exactly.”
“So when will I get to see her?”
“Not sure. You might not.”
“Rhoenne.”
“Do na’ take that tone again. I’m warning you.”
“You are not thinking of leaving her in Batok...are you?”
“Me? I’m simply waiting to enjoy the long dark hours ahead of me. In solitude.”
“Rhoenne.”
“Rest easy. You have given me something to ponder, Henry. Your ide
a has merit. I need time to ponder it.”
“Which idea?”
“Aileen. Dropping dead.”
Rhoenne kept his voice perfectly flat and emotionless. It still contained a measure of hatred. He knew Henry heard it. The starlight didn’t just make the jewelry glint. It brought out the whiteness of Henry’s teeth with his smile.
Chapter Ten
They reached Batok in the early hours of the second day. Horses had sensed it well before the men, their steps quickening while clansmen slumbered away. The road meandered around more and more impressions of settlement. Heat shimmered across the night air. They were well into this country’s inundation period. A sliver of moon sent vague illumination onto leagues of fields awash in water, buildings in the far-off distance, shadowy hulks of ancient structures that littered the land. There was an enclosure around the city, although it appeared to have crumbled in places. It wasn’t much of a city, and even less of a port, but two large-mast sailing ships were docked, while another one was anchored just offshore. The docked ships looked to be in the process of loading or unloading. The other apparently waited high tide.
Rhoenne turned his attention to Batok. It resembled every other port city in this part of the world. Low mud-brick buildings fronted the water. Other structures dribbled back in alternating squares that attached to each other, some larger, some taller. It created a zigzag maze they’d have to progress through regardless of the street they entered. He had the best path selected before they reached the open gates.
They’d secure lodging first. Then decent food and drink. He had coins in the bag. Not many, but enough to pay for their current needs. They didn’t need the jewels yet, but he’d observed Henry digging at the anklet more than once, using a dagger to unseat gems that he secreted away. Henry FitzHugh was smart. Efficient. With his tanned face and dark coloring, he could pass for an Egyptian. Rhoenne could send Emin with Henry to assist with the bargaining, but that meant he’d have to contend with protecting Cassandra. And he’d already had enough of that responsibility.
Rhoenne glanced down at her. He’d kept verbal contact with her to a minimum. She’d returned the effort. But there wasn’t anything he could do about the physical portion of this. Every little thing she did seemed calculated to make him aware of her. The days had been difficult. The night hours had become indescribable.
At the moment she slept with her head in the crook of his left arm, her buttocks in the space between the saddle horn and the horse’s neck, her legs bent so her knees were jammed into his right side. The cloak was still attempting coverage, but there was no way to conceal the fact that she was a very desirable woman.
Very.
She stirred, as if she knew his thoughts. He instinctively gripped her thigh with his right hand, stopping any slide. And then he had to deal with a sensation of warmth that blossomed through his chest as if his heart swelled. That sent an invasion of heat down his belly. Fiery trouble flooded his groin, creating a turbulence that he refused to acknowledge or accept. His thighs tightened in defense. His gut, chest, back, arms, even his jaw clenched for the same reason. And it was useless. All of it.
Nothing he tried physically managed to halt this from happening. Mental exorcising failed in even more vivid fashion. He kept silently repeating words, as if they’d create a shield between them. She was a woman. Women were the lowest of creatures. A vile plague. Adam had just been the first man to learn it, back in the Garden of Eden. Women were put on earth to torment and seduce and lie...
Damn it.
No matter what he thought of Cassandra, or how he tried to shove her into the category of scheming ruthless heartless woman, it didn’t stop what happened. His heart would swell somehow. His belly would twist. His loins would thicken ominously. His muscles would attempt defense. He’d shudder, stifling things he’d never had to deal with. Not for this length of time, nor at this level. It had happened the last time he’d touched her. The time before that.
And the time before that, as well.
And the time before...
Rhoenne cursed again.
This was war. He refused to lose. Women were a disease. Dealing with one this closely and for this length of time was worse than battle. It was a curse. But it was his to bear. Stoically. And silently. Until he was victorious. Nobody need ever know.
“So. Rhoenne. You going to allow the lass to bathe?”
Rhoenne stiffened further at Henry’s words, sucking in and exhaling air as he worked to stifle cravings that he refused to admit. He only hoped he kept it hidden. “What?” he finally responded.
“I am simply willing to put forth my name as an assist with said endeavor. You will consider it?”
“You will be busy bargaining. That ship looks ready to sail.”
“We’ve got a day.”
“What makes you so certain?”
“High tide is but an hour away, my laird. That ship would not be at anchor still if it were sailing this morn. I hazard a guess that it prepares to leave on the morrow. Therefore, I appear to have some time on my hands. As do we all.”
Rhoenne grunted.
“So. Your lady will enjoy a bath. I would be willing to assist should you grant her one. You will think on it?”
More than he wanted to. Rhoenne cleared his throat. “She has her servant,” he answered.
“Why should he get all the joy in life?”
“Because he has been gelded. And you are getting damn close to the same fate.”
Henry sniggered. “I see.”
“Why don’t you ride on, find an inn, and get us a room.”
“A room?”
“For her.”
“It’s a mite early yet, Rhoenne.”
“So? Wake an innkeeper.”
“That is na’ the issue, my laird. Innkeepers do na’ care about much more than coin. And, begging your pardon, my laird, but what we possess is worth much more than a rented room. We could purchase an entire inn with a couple of stones. It is simply a trifle early for the markets to open, and with them, a merchant willing to trade for jewels.”
“What do you take me for, FitzHugh?”
“Must I answer that when you are most vexatious? I do value my head...and my loins. Despite my jesting. ”
“I have coins.”
“Gold dinars?”
Rhoenne nodded.
“Excellent. Well. Hand some of them over. I shall seek out lodgings. With access to a bath for your lady. Anything else you want me to arrange?”
A bath for Cassandra.
A flood of heat sent everything right back to battle-ready status. Rhoenne tightened his thighs so harshly it lifted him from the saddle and upset Cassandra’s perch. He had no option but to snag her before she fell from the horse. He had her belly against his, her head against his shoulder, and a dose of liquid attention from her startled, opened eyes.
Oh.
He was in trouble.
“Good catch, Ramhurst,” Henry tossed off as he moved away.
He didn’t need Henry’s laughter. Or his jibe. He needed something drastic. Perhaps even a woman. But one thing was certain. It wasn’t going to be this woman. He was going to have to retreat for now. The battle may be lost, but he was not losing the war.
“Come along, Euan. Keep up.”
Rhoenne strode down another alley, ducked beneath another awning that wasn’t a problem for shorter people, and glanced back to his clansman. The streets were narrow, vendors filled both sides, crowds of shoppers moved about, and Euan hadn’t ceased complaining.
Amid stuffing his mouth.
“You really should try one of the meat pies. Seriously, Ramhurst. You should take a bite. It’s nigh heavenly.”
“I already ate three at the last stall.”
“True. But these have some sort of...spice. Oh. Look. Apples. And grapes! Can we just stop and get—?”
Rhoenne spun, flipped him a coin, watched the fellow catch it deftly, snap up a couple of apples and a cluster of grapes.
Rhoenne caught a return toss of an apple, started munching on it as he turned back around and resumed walking. He passed an alley. It looked dim. Untraveled. He speared it a look and moved on. The rest of the street held another assortment of stalls, a rug seller, another spice peddler, pot merchant, and a jeweler whose wares glimmered in the sunlight looking a lot like her eyes.
Cassandra...
Rhoenne gave a silent curse and turned aside. Started up another section of the street. They’d built their city on mostly level ground, so it wasn’t arduous to walk about, even at a brisk pace. He lengthened his strides, pushing past crowds that every marketplace seemed to spawn. Heavily veiled women walked, surrounded by attendants. Loud street hawkers pushed their wares. Discordant music swelled out of a side street. Sounds of an argument could be heard in another. And none of it did a thing to mitigate his problem.
Euan trotted alongside him, alternately chewing on a meat pie in one hand, and snagging grapes from the bunch that dangled from his other hand. The fellow was like a bottomless food trencher, despite his gangly frame. Rhoenne didn’t know where he put it.
“You ken...if you tell me what it is you search for, I might could help you find it,” Euan offered.
“A woman.”
Euan stopped. Then he had to jog to catch back up. “Well, if that be the case, look about you, man. Women are littering your path. As usual.”
Rhoenne turned about. Regarded the mass of humanity filling the street around them. Euan had been exaggerating, but not by much. There were a lot of women in the vicinity, several covered with all-encompassing black cloth. They quickly covered their eyes and looked away. Not so their attendants. Rhoenne intercepted more than a few looks. There were a lot of bold women trying to catch his glance, as well. Among them uncovered women - slaves, and probable harlots, if he wasn’t mistaken. He didn’t give any a second look. Not one piqued his interest. Most of them were gawking at him. Rhoenne felt a rising flush. He should have kept his hood up.