A Kiss in the Night (10 page)

He first caught the faintest hint of her perfume. Lilac-scented oils. She had taken to bathing in the river every day, where she applied this oil to her long hair to keep knots out, he had discovered. The faint scent followed her about, teasing him unmercifully and driving him nearly mad at times. He first thought he was imagining it, but no. He looked up and around the room, finding her as she stepped out of the shadows.

"Linness," he said, much surprised as he took in her slender shape draped in a gold and white robe. He saw at once she was frightened of something. Her eyes were wide with anxiety, her face pale, her lips redder because of it. She clasped the folds of the robe tight about her neck, but the long hair fell unrestrained down to her waist. Her countenance made him soften his tone. "What is amiss? 'Tis ill luck to see your betrothed on the eve of a wedding-"

"I had to speak with you."

"Aye." He came to stand by her. His concern mixed with suspicion; he had learned to be wary of a woman's emotions.

Her eyes fixed on his face. "Young Michaels was carting out a trunk today with some other men. A beautiful hand-carved trunk. I saw it and…and it put in mind...I saw a man. I mean with my sight—"

"Your sight," he repeated with exasperation and amusement both. Already the servants spoke of nothing else but the lady's miraculous "sight.” Though she knew better than to discuss such foolishness with him, apparently she claimed to have gotten the sight after a childhood bump on the head. This had never been mentioned in the marriage contract, and thank God for that. The negotiations would have ceased immediately; the last thing he wanted was a wife with addled wits.

"Michaels told me you have a brother. His name is...Paxton." She whispered the unbelievable name with reverence. "Nan and Philippa, my serving women, both said the same. They took me to the Gaillard Bible, where I saw his name written in ink. Michaels said...he said that this brother was banished because, because of me."

He stared down at the hot worry in those gray eyes. Was she so tenderhearted that she would worry over a person she had never met?

Aye, he saw. It softened his heart even more

He turned from her, dismissing the vexing feelings this inane conversation solicited from him "Milady, you are not to concern yourself with my brother."

"Is it true? Milord, please. Tell me it can possibly be true."

There was desperation in the question.

"Aye 'tis true. Though you hardly caused the rift, milady. 'Twas there the day we were born. Oh, aye, the war would be interrupted by laughter and jests and sometimes goodwill, but always it was there between us—this darkling feeling of rivalry. He was serving me and Gaillard as wine steward, but he is even better known for the warring arts, and so Paxton was in charge of finding you. Instead he left the search and was discovered...well, to be blunt, whoring with some—"He waved his hand in a gesture of disgust. "—some condemned witch. The incident could not be excused. I banished him from our home. You are in no way responsible. Now," he ordered, "I am weary of his very name. I will hear it no more."

Linness's mind raced over this explanation. The man who had discovered Paxton with her must not be near or must not recognize her, she realized. Though that was the least of her worries now.

Morgan's thoughts traveled far away as he proceeded to undress in front of the fire. He removed his belt, his heavy mantle, and boots. He poured himself a cup of wine, drained the contents, and poured some more. Then he looked back at her.

She had retreated back into the shadows.

She pressed herself against the cold stone wall. 'Twas impossible to believe. Impossible. 'Twas Morgan who was the shadow over Paxton's life, while she was Paxton's condemned witch. She had begged Morgan to postpone the wedding so she knew for sure 'twas Paxton's child she carried. And so it was.

The jeweled ring burned against her chest. Haltingly she had to know, "This betrothal ring you gave me. Has it been in your family long?"

Morgan never expected a woman's mind to turn in neat circles. So he never wondered at the sudden shift of subjects. "Nay. My mother had them made when we were born."

"Them?"

"Paxton and I. She had matching rings made.”

It explained everything, she realized. There were two rings. Morgan's ring must have been lost or stolen with Belinda's things. Paxton had given her his...

Morgan stared into the fire as he thought of the two rings. Paxton still wore his ring on his neck. He had never given it to his first wife. No doubt because the ring was all Paxton had ever received from their mother and Paxton had cherished it as a good-luck charm. Paxton did not know the truth about those rings. John had once confessed that his saintly mother had only one ring made at first for him. Paxton would have been ignored again. But then his father had intervened, and insisted she have two rings made, one for each boy. She had actually argued that Paxton would not live long enough to be betrothed to a lady, that she did not want the expense. John said it was the first time she voiced it out loud, her certainty that Paxton would die, and that their father had been furious to hear it. He ordered two rings made and made her swear never to speak such in his presence again.

Linness was crying openly now as Mary whispered softly to choose. Choose now before it was too late. She must choose between accepting or abandoning the priceless wealth and security offered to her unborn son, who would be the next lord of Gaillard, master of this grand and beautiful land. She could set off at once in the cold dark of the night, chased by Morgan's entire guard, penniless, destitute, and carrying a child, in a desperate search for a dream.

A dream named Paxton…

She would never find this dream. Michaels had said his trunks were being sent to the French court where he had already gone to assume the lofty responsibility of lord general of the king's guard. The army was marching to Milan. Even if she could make the long journey on foot to that faraway place, before she starved herself or lost her child, it was unknown how long he would be gone, "It might be years, Michaels had said. Years before he returned. Years of a grinding poverty that might once again land her at the stake.

Morgan came to stand in front of her, in the shadows. He gently wiped the tears falling from her closed eyes. He breathed in her sweetness until each breath came faster. A hand came under her chin, drawing her eyes to his face.

She had no choice.

Yet the moment his lips came over her mouth, a darkness descended like a veil over her heart and soul. The darkness was the future. A future draped in the wealth and opulence of a lady's life, and filled with untried love and all the terrible longing that brings.

Twas a future without dreams…

Chapter Four

Six years later…`

Just outside of Gaillard, the river wound through the low-lying mountain range where the vineyards at last gave way to the forest. Here cliffs, enormous granite boulders, and towering trees edged and narrowed the swiftly running waterway. Ivy and moss draped the boulders and dripped from overhanging branches of the trees, darkening the landscape and shading the world be low in an enchanting emerald green light Sound too, traveled in an unusual manner through the earthly corridor, and the distant laughter reached the three riders as they approached Gaillard.

Paxton stopped his horse, stilling the creature’s dance as he listened to the sound ricocheting through the valley in an enchanting musical trill. A smile curved his lips. "Do you hear that?" he asked his two knights, Simon and Williams, who had stopped their mounts alongside him. "Someone has braved the frigid spring water and God's teeth it sounds like a woman.”

Lord General Paxton de Chamberlain and his two knights had ridden hard from Florence to the Gaillard valley, a journey that had taken two weeks. At last, they had reached their destination this morning. Paxton meant to plunge into the cold depths of the river and don fresh clothes before presenting himself at the chateau. Only Morgan was expecting him. He and Morgan had decided to keep the reunion a secret, wanting to surprise their uncle John on his sixtieth birthday.

Paxton could hardly wait to see the old man.

"Aye," Simon said presently, listening as well, but then, guessing Paxton's intention, he looked askance at his friend. "Milord, these frigid waters you speak of, they are not the ones you mean to bathe in? The river that I recall you had described was warm, clean, and inviting?"

"Simon, you old, coddled wretch." Paxton laughed as he turned his horse towards the river and his men followed. "Peace has made you soft. Do not tell me my bravest knight is set to tremble at the thought of a little cold water?"

"Not the thought, milord," Simon explained, "not the thought..."

The sun shone bright overhead, shimmering in tiny diamond pinpoints where Linness swam with her young five-year-old son, Jean Luc. Clair, now the boy's overworked nursemaid, watched from the shade of the mossy banks, shivering just from the sight of the two splashing and swimming about. Long ago Linness had ignored the protestations of the entire household and had the boy in the water and swimming even before he took his first steps—and now he swam like a fish. Just like his mother. Lord Morgan never put a stop to it, not then and not now. The man doted on his wife and his boy, spoiling them both. Neither could do any wrong.

The heavy shuffling of horses' hooves sounded behind her and Clair turned to see three riders approaching through the trees. Her bright blue eyes shot back in panic to the water where Linness and Jean Luc swam as naked as the day they were born. "Milady, riders! Milady!"

Too far away, Linness never heard. The rush of river water drowned out all sound.

Clair turned back to assess the three men. She almost screamed. Not just ordinary men, but hardened knights who looked as if they had ridden through battles for days. Like a coward, she backed slowly into the bushes and out of sight in case she needed to run for help.

Home at last.

Paxton's men came up behind him as he looked out over the water and found the source of the enchanting musical laughter echoing over the river. A young woman swam with her boy. Unaware of anyone watching, the woman tossed her boy up with all her strength, laughing as the boy's howl of delight sounded in the air and, knees drawn against his chest, he splashed back into the water. He could not hear the words they shouted to each other, and then the boy started for shore while his mother swam out farther.

"Milord, you look as if you know her." William noticed with a grin.

"Aye." Paxton grinned back as he removed his leather gloves. "My imagination must be playing tricks on me. For she looks very much like a lady I once knew well."

"In the biblical sense, milord?'

"Aye." And Paxton laughed at the memory or the enchanted creature who had so altered the course of his life. Linness. The young silver-eyed virgin witch with the long hair and slim shape, fitted perfectly for a man's dreams. He would always remember Linness.

He had looked for her repeatedly over the years. He had searched everywhere in the first weeks after leaving Gaillard; he had even sent his men to surrounding villages and townships in hopes of finding her, a measure he had tried each time he returned from abroad. To no avail. It was as though she had disappeared from the face of the earth. He had come to think she existed for their one night together in a magical dreamscape. A night that had changed his life and saved him from a lifetime filled with little more than bitter resentment and jealousy.

Linness had saved him.

He supposed he would always look for her in every woman he saw. Like now. And yet, no matter how beautiful or tempting, all other women paled when set alongside the memory of Linness.

Paxton came off his horse, staring still. "What say you and Simon find some other spot to bathe in?"

With chuckles and well wishes, they turned their mounts around and disappeared through the trees. Paxton lifted the bridle over his prized stallion's head, letting the magnificent creature go to the water. After unbuckling his sheath and sword belt, dropping them to the ground, he began removing his heavy haubert. His back was to the water—his first mistake.

A barbarian! Perhaps an evil Saracen or wizard!

Jean Luc's feet touched the silted bottom of the river as he rushed out of the water onto the river-bank, where he picked up his sword. With weapon raised, he turned to the knight "Raise thy sword, barbarian, and stand to answer to mine!"

Paxton turned with a start, his keen gaze failing to a young lad, barely waist high, completely naked and obviously meaning to slay him. With a wooden sword, no less. The boy had light brown hair and large, dark blue eyes. A handsome lad and obviously a brave one.

Clair came quickly through the trees to rescue the boy, but she stopped, catching sight of the bright amusement sparkling in the man's dark eyes. He bent down to retrieve his sword and slide its long steel band from a jeweled sheath. Sunlight streamed through the trees overhead, glinting off the metal. The knight smiled, but the boy remained undaunted still, his hand clasped firmly on the wooden sword.

"Before we draw blood, young man, tell me what has grieved you. I have done you no harm that I know."