Blood Moon (8 page)

Giving up the fight, Aslyn
allowed them to escort her back to her cottage. She made no attempt
at conversation, however, despite Lord Algar’s many attempts to
prod her into intercourse. Kale remained silent. She wasn’t certain
whether it was because that was typical of him, or if he was wise
enough not to attempt the impossible. In any case, she felt like a
prisoner—
was
a
prisoner, however courtly their behavior appeared.

Did they fancy that they were courting
her, she wondered a little wildly, but she decided she simply could
not credit that? The rivalry between them was far older than their
acquaintance and, she thought, far more complicated than a simple
contest between two randy males for a chosen female.

She was certainly not flattered by the
attention, whatever the case. She was more inclined to view it as a
comedy of errors, wherein Kale had perceived Lord Algar’s interest
as being more than it actually was and had set himself up as rival
purely for its antagonistic value.

The girl she had been before would
probably have been too pleased and too flattered to look beyond the
surface. The woman she was had not had that luxury in many a year
now. She could not afford only to take things at face value. She
felt certain her secret was still that, a secret, because she had
not lingered long enough in any one place to allow suspicions to
grow, but she could not be sure enough to stake her life on it. Nor
could she risk that she would be unintentionally tripped. Either
way, her life was forfeit.

She felt a sudden, deep yearning for
the life she had once had, a painful wish to be merely a girl,
caught up in flattering courtship by two attractive, eligible
males. Or even simply to be too blind and shallow to perceive the
layers of deception, lust, and intrigue that lay in wait for the
unwary.

Alas, innocence was not to be had for
the wishing. She could not enjoy the attention. She could not preen
and find pleasure in it. She could not even enjoy a secret
amusement at the situation she had found herself in.

In truth, she was far more embarrassed
than amused by the picture they must represent and relieved beyond
measure when they came to her cottage once more, until it occurred
to her to wonder if they would part company at the door or if she
would have to conceive an idea to foist them off.

With an edge of desperation, she pulled
free as they reached her door, grasped the handle determinedly and
turned, barring entrance, a false smile pasted on her lips. “I must
thank you … both … for your assistance. I wish I could invite you
in for something to war--a cup of tea to warm you, but I have
someone coming in a very little bit with a sick child.”

To her relief, the men exchanged a look
and bowed. Kale stepped forward and set her cook pot on the stoop.
Even as he did so, Lord Algar seized her hand and bent over it to
give it a salute.

“Until this eve, then, Mistress Aslyn,”
Kale said, a wicked gleam in his eyes, then nodded and departed
before she could say anything at all.

She was left with her jaw at half cock,
staring after him in consternation over Lord Algar’s dark head. The
comment brought Lord Algar’s head up with a jerk. As he whipped
around to glare after the huntsman’s departing back, Aslyn
recovered sufficiently to grab her pot and duck inside the door.
When Lord Algar turned to look at her suspiciously, she pasted a
bright smile on her lips. “Thank you again,” she said and hastily
slammed and bolted the door.

She braced her back against the door,
partly from the weakness of relief, partly from an uneasiness that
Lord Algar would not take her dismissal lightly. Her heart was
thundering in her ears, making it difficult to listen for sounds of
Lord Algar’s departure. Finally, however, he left without another
word.

Aslyn stared down at the pot hanging on
the hook above the fire. She had nothing to put in it. She’d
intended to go foraging for something to make a soup once she’d
returned with the pot. She didn’t dare do so now, however, afraid
she’d run up on Kale or Lord Algar again, or worse, both of
them.

She turned and looked sadly at the
crusty loaf of bread that had been brought to her earlier. It would
have gone well with soup. Alone it lost much of its
appeal.

Dismissing it, she began to pace the
small room, trying to think how she might depart Krackensled
without being accosted by either of her ‘suitors’ or the men with
them. It seemed an impossibility. The soldiers roamed the land at
night, searching for the elusive wolves. During the day she would
be far too easily noticed, by villagers and soldiers
alike.

Twice, she’d gone foraging and both
times she had repeatedly spotted soldiers lurking nearby. She did
not believe for a moment that it was purely coincidence, despite
the fact that they’d given the pretense of having other matters on
their minds.

She was obliged to admit, after much
pacing, that it would be worse, given the current situation, to
try, than to wait for a better time. If she tried and was caught,
then she would be under suspicion and watched even more closely. If
she waited, the situation might turn in her favor. There had been
no reports of attack in nearly a week. Surely the soldiers would
soon leave if nothing happened to keep them in the area?

In the afternoon, a rap came upon her
door. She was reluctant to answer it, but she could not simply hide
away, as much as she would have liked to. Still, she was cautious,
calling through the door before she opened it.

Enid favored her with a curious look
when Aslyn opened the door. “You were expecting
someone?”

Aslyn smiled weakly. “It pays to be
cautious.”

Enid hid a smile. “Especially when
you’re being courted by two such powerful men.”

Aslyn turned away as she felt color
creep into her face. “They are hardly courting. The rivalry between
Kale and Lord Algar is almost certainly older than our short
acquaintance. It’s difficult to be flattered when they seem more
interested in besting each other than claiming the ... uh ...
prize.”

Enid nodded skeptically.

Irritated, Aslyn asked if she had need
of anything.

Enid grinned, not insulted in the
least. “Nay. Jim’s outside taking care of those repairs, as
promised. I thought mayhap you’d like a bit of company.”

Aslyn was not currently inclined toward
company—in truth she would not have welcomed it at any time, but
she found she could not be rude in the face of Enid’s determination
to promote a friendship. She refused, however, to be drawn into any
sort of discussion regarding her ‘suitors’. Instead, she played
with the baby and listened absently to Enid’s recital of all the
clever things the baby had done most recently.

Baby Bess seemed none the worse for her
accident the previous week. The knot on her head had all but
disappeared, leaving a yellowed patch of bruising. Jim was healing
well, as well and, with the exception of the continued attacks by
wolves, all was right with Enid’s world.

Aslyn felt her heart drop to her toes
when Enid asked if she’d heard of the latest attack. “There’s been
another attack?” she asked a little breathlessly.

Enid nodded, her eyes wide. “Just last
eve. I’m surprised you’ve not heard, considering.”

Aslyn was almost afraid to ask.
“Considering?”

“Will the Red--the farmer that was here
to see you about the boils just yester morn. He was on his way
home, and nearly there when he was set upon.”

“He was … was he … killed?”

Enid shook her head. “By God’s mercy!
Frightened nearly witless, but he was fortunate enough to come off
without a scratch. He had chanced to kill a stag along the way and
had it upon his shoulders. Doubtless, it was that that attracted
them. In any case, when they leapt upon him, they dragged the
carcass from his shoulders and he was able to flee while they
fought over it.”

“The poor man,” Aslyn murmured. She did
sympathize with his fright, but her own plight was beginning to
look more and more desperate and she had difficulty focusing upon
anything but unraveling the problem. With an effort, she dismissed
her anxieties and directed the subject back to Baby Bess, knowing
Enid could not resist following. She wished she could as easily put
it from her own mind. It unnerved her to think the man had been set
upon so quickly upon the heels of his visit to her. She dearly
hoped that Enid had not spread the tale in the same way she’d told
it to her, else the villagers would be wary of coming to her door,
or worse, become hostile in the certainty that the problems they
were having were her doing.

All in all, she was not sorry to see
the McCraney family take their leave. As she opened the door for
them, however, she discovered she was sorrier still that they had
already said their good-byes, for Kale stood upon her
stoop.

Chapter Six

Enid threw her a twinkling glance,
nodded at Kale and departed, leaving Aslyn staring uncomfortably at
her visitor.

“I’d invite….”

“Thank you,” Kale said. He handed her a
wheel of cheese and strode inside with something wrapped loosely in
a piece of thin leather.

Aghast, Aslyn watched speechlessly as
he moved to the hearth with the air of one who belongs. He was
carrying, she saw, a haunch of meat, already skewered and ready,
apparently, for the fire. He arranged it on the spit before he
straightened and turned to face her, his expression
unreadable.

He had invited himself to dine with her
and had brought the main course. Or, did he think she would be the
main course, Aslyn wondered uneasily.

After a moment, she pushed the door
closed. By tomorrow, she would almost certainly be receiving the
looks reserved for women of easy virtue, but it was far too cold to
leave the door ajar for the sake of decorum. In any case, she
doubted her reputation would survive much longer whatever she did.
Kale and Lord Algar had blatantly marched her down the street
between them. No doubt the community had been titillated over that
and was even now snickering about the healer and her two
lovers.

The townsfolk’s low opinion of her
would not wound her, nor need she concern herself about it as any
young, unwed, woman would need to in order to find acceptance. It
might well lead to a precipitate departure for her, however, if for
no other reason than that she would be avoided out of censure and
have no way of earning her keep.

That might have its advantages. Not
that she liked the idea of being run out of town, but it would
certainly solve her dilemma over how she might leave without
arousing suspicion.

On the other hand, it would also leave
her more vulnerable to Kale and Lord Algar, whatever their plans
for her.

After studying him uneasily for several
moments, Aslyn moved away from the door. “I see you’ve brought…?”
She broke off, uncertain of what the bloody chunk of meat
was.

“A haunch of venison.”

She nodded and continued to the
washstand, pouring water into the basin so that he could wash up.
He crossed the room to stand behind her. She glanced up at him over
her shoulder, caught by his gaze for several heartbeats before she
shook herself and moved away with the realization that he was
merely waiting for her to move so that he could wash up.

She watched him as he washed his hands,
mesmerized by the movements of his hands and the play of muscles on
his forearms, exposed when he’d rolled his sleeves to the elbows.
His hands were strong, his fingers long and tapering. Dark hair
sprinkled the backs of them as well his forearms. She was still
watching as he turned at last, drying his hands on the cloth she’d
left beside the bowl for him. He studied her a long moment and
finally turned to the bowl once more. Lifting it, he carried it
outside to empty the contents.

More than a little dazed by the turn of
events—for despite Kale’s earlier threat/promise, she truly had not
expected him to show up--Aslyn surveyed her cottage when he’d gone
outside. She was fortunate to have the little that she did since
she had ‘inherited’ what Gershin had left. However, Gershin had
lived alone and had not enjoyed a great deal of prosperity. The
cottage contained one small table, one rickety chair, and a narrow
bed.

Aslyn ignored the bed. There was no
sense in stimulating the man’s imagination by inviting him to sit
on it. There was far more dirt floor in the room than anything else
… and, to be sure, little enough of that considering the size of
the cottage. She would never before have even considered such a
thing for a moment, but a very little thought told that, unless she
was willing to use the bed as a seat—which she most certainly
wasn’t—she really had no choice but to entertain her guest on the
floor.

Irritation surged through her briefly,
that she’d been put in the awkward position of entertaining a guest
when she hadn’t the means for it. She dismissed it with the
reflection that Kale had come for a reason. For her safety as well
as her peace of mind, she needed to know what that reason
was.

If his intention truly was to court
her, then she would simply have to find a way to fob him off until
she had the chance to move on. If, as she suspected, it was
something more, then forewarned was forearmed.