Carolyne Cathey (29 page)

His faint image
filled the opening.  He watched her.

Eleanor swallowed
at the persistent lump in her throat and turned to focus on the now unbarred
way to her future.

Dark.  Cold. 
Lonely.

Where to go?  If
she returned to the convent, what would be the reaction of the nuns after her
escape?  And yet she had no choice.  Lucinda?  Nay.  Lucinda began a new life,
if war didn’t interrupt, a war caused by Eleanor.  Furthermore, even if her
sister allowed her to stay despite their heated words, Lucinda dwelt too near
temptation.  Which left only the convent.

Would Brigham
find her before she reached the nunnery?  If so, would he torture and burn her
as he had threatened? 

Eleanor shuddered
and moved forward.  Her footsteps barely made a sound as she trod the planks to
the road.  She gave thanks no one could see her through the fog, for tears
washed hot down her cheeks, betraying her torment.  How long before the pain
ceased and left her numb?  A lifetime?

"Eleanor?"

A tight breath
filled her lungs.  Did she hear Kyle's voice, or a fantasy?  With a prayer on
her lips, she swiped at her tears, then turned.  Her heart stumbled.  How
beautiful the sight of him in the pale light of dawn.  He appeared as when she
had first arrived, an apparition in the mist.

"Eleanor, I
have a problem.  I know not who to send with you that I can trust.  I cannot
let you go alone.  'Tis too dangerous.  And Brigham . . . well . . . you need
protection."

She remained
motionless, outwardly controlled, but inwardly waging a war between wishes and
reality.  "Sir Jerrod offered to escort me."

Kyle's eyes
narrowed.  "Did he?  How generous.  I must remember to thank him." 

She couldn't miss
the sarcasm in his tone.

He shook his
head.  "Nay.  Not Jerrod.  I trust him not where you are concerned, and I
doubt he can see well past his swollen eye."

"Swollen
eye?"

Kyle rubbed at
the knuckles on his hand.  "I should have torn his tongue from his mouth. 
The forked appendage must be loose at both ends the way the traitorous thing
flaps."

Guilt wagged its
finger.  Her interference had even caused bickering between Kyle and his best
friend.  'Twas good she planned to leave.  She had caused too much trouble, a
reminder she might have to repeat with great frequency for the rest of her
days. 

"And as to
your escort, Peter's too old.  John's too young.  Another knight?"  He
pursed his mouth.  "Nay.  None could I trust to not take advantage of
you."

"The
friar?"

"Hah.  He's
not safe.  Beth seems to slip out his back door from a goodly amount of
over-long confessionals."

Eleanor
stiffened.  "Beth seems a likable sort."

Kyle grinned and
cocked a brow.

Jealousy
tightened her mouth.  "Perhaps Rupert will see me away, my lord."

"Nay, not
Rupert!  Unless you wish to see him sacrificed like one of the sheep."

She straightened
her shoulders and lifted her chin.  "Then I shall go alone.  'Tis the way
I came."

"I won't
permit you to travel without protection."

"What about
you, my lord?  Will you escort me?"  A foolish request!  She only
intensified her anguish.

Kyle sucked in a
breath.  "I trust myself least of all.  If the grain field didn't sabotage
my good intentions, the ferny woods might, or the ride upon Valiant."

Her face burned
from the memory.

"You can see
my problem, love."

He called her,
love.  A pang of regret burrowed deeper.  She nodded.  "Perhaps I should
go to Lucinda's until we solve this dilemma."  Yet, she knew she wouldn't
stop at her sister's.  She suggested the alternative only to ease his
consternation.

"Aye. 
Lucinda's."

Eleanor forced
her feet along the rutted road.

Kyle paced his
step with hers.

"Tis a
puzzlement, my lord."

"What,
love?"  He tilted his downcast head toward her.

"Somehow,
sanity seems insanity.  Right seems wrong."

"Ah.  'Tis
true, that."

The mist merged
into drops of rain and drizzled down her face.  "My lord, be careful of
Brigham.  As you know, he bodes you ill."

"'Tis you
who warned me about my brother.  You know all, except where we are
concerned."

"Only One
knows all, my lord.  For certain, not I, or I wouldn't be trudging this road. 
And I've asked for guidance, but yet, here I am, as uncertain as before."

"Aye.  I've
prayed, as well."  His voice had gone all whispery.  "And here I
am."  He halted.

She forced her
steps onward, away from happiness and joy.  As the distance grew greater, the
coldness increased.  Her mind screamed from the agony.  She wanted to weep like
the clouds.  And he had not followed.

"Wait!"

She ceased her
steps and her breath.  Afraid to hope, afraid of a further crush, she watched
the mist collect into rivulets at her feet.

"Eleanor?"

Don't hope! 
Don't hope
!  She turned.

In the swirling
fog he looked like a desperate spirit caught halfway between worlds, uncertain
which to choose.  "You have yet to repay your debt!"

Her mouth went
dry.

"'Tis I who
say when 'tis satisfied, love.  With the way I've had to carry you about, tend
to your illness and go often in search of you, in truth, the debt is doubled. 
Nay, even tripled."

"I should
think so, my lord!"  Hope burst past her restraint and encouraged her feet
toward him.  She concentrated on his linen surcote, bittersweet against the
grayish mist.  "You grow wet from the rain, my lord.  'Tis not good for
your shoulder."

"Nay.  Nor
for you.  You cannot labor for me when you're ill."

"'Tis true,
my lord."

"And another
dilemma, love.  Your clothes.  They are not truly yours.  If you leave, you'd
be a thief.  Our original problem if you remember.  You still must earn the
right to wear them before you can call them your own.  Yet, you shan't leave
without them, for then you'd be naked, and only one pair of eyes may see you
thus.  Mine."

Her gaze merged
with his, and held.  "'Tis a goodly amount I owe in service to you, my
lord."

"Aye.  'Tis
so.  I fear much time will be needed before all my beneficence is repaid. 
Perhaps whilst you serve me, solutions to our problems will present
themselves."  He held out his hand.

Like a wave to
the shore, she neared him.  "Perhaps so, my lord.  'Twould be
wondrous."

"Aye. 
Wondrous."

She reached for
him, then halted before her flesh pressed his.  His heat warmed her fingers.  A
tremble urged her to touch him.  Nay.  'Twould be her undoing.  She lowered her
arm to her side.

Disappointment
darkened his eyes.  He released a sigh. "Last night, you said you hoped to
stay near."

Elation
threatened, yet she dare not allow such an emotion.  She turned her side to him
and took a step toward the keep while angling him a subtle glance.  "Aye,
my lord.  'Twould be desolate without you."

Did his chest
swell a bit?  He clasped his hands behind him and paced his stride to hers.

"'Twill be
grand to feast my eyes upon your handsomeness while I labor, Sire."

"I'd prefer
to have you for my mouth to feast upon."

Her heart kicked
into a race.  The sound of her feet in step with his on the bridge seemed as
sweet hallelujahs.

Shadowy figures
moved about the bailey.  Dogs barked.  Voices mumbled in sleepy tones.

"As to your
duties, I wish you to tend to my chamber, love."

Her knees
threatened to give way.  "Nay, my lord.  'Twould be too great an
enticement."

"You disobey
yet again?  I should punish you."  As he whispered the threat, passion
simmered in his eyes.  "Aye.  I think I shall increase my demands." 

"In what
way, my lord?"

He stepped
body-heat close, then tilted his head downward.  "I shall order you to
feed me, to bathe me . . . to tend to my every need."

Merciful heaven. 
His presence overwhelmed her good sense.  She should walk away and not look
back.  "Ah, my lord.  'Twould be torture."

A mixture of hurt
and insult registered on his face.  "Torture?"

"To be so
near, to feel you beneath my fingers, and yet not . . ." She couldn't
finish.  A lump clogged her throat.

"Ah. 
'Twould be torture for me, as well."

"Then,
'twould be inappropriate, my lord.  After all, 'tis
my
punishment."

"'Twould
punish me more.  Then I see no hope for it.  You must scrub my floors and tend
my garden."

Eleanor glanced
up at his face and her heart stumbled over its beat.  "'Twould be an
honor, my lord."

His mouth
twitched as if his held back a smile.  "If you had done so at first, as I
had insisted, we would not be in this predicament."

She couldn't help
laughing.  "Aye, my lord."  She winked at the mischief in the blue of
his eyes.  "'Tis scandalous, my behavior."

His eyes softened
with desire.  "Aye, scandalous."  Then he sighed and lifted his gaze
to study the keep.  "'Tis weighty, these vows.  I promised my father I'd
always care for Brigham, yet he plots against me, so 'tis only a matter of
another incident before I dissolve my pledge."  Kyle scanned the misty
surround, then entrapped her gaze with his, determined.  "I warn you,
Eleanor.  My other vows I intend to keep.  I promised I'd take you in this
muddy bailey.  I gave my word you'd be my lady.  And I vowed you'd be mine, for
eternity."

"And I vowed
I'd leave if I cannot maintain a distance."

A frown creased
his still-swollen brow.  "What do we when our promises collide?"

What indeed? 
"Find each one a different path, my lord?" 

"Tis a good
answer.  'Twill take some time, these different paths."  He sighed. 
"Go to Nurse Kincaid.  She'll tell you what to do."

Love pulsed in
her veins.  She reached up to embrace him, then stopped before they touched.

He froze,
expectant, his gaze a plea for her surrender.

She hovered on
the edge of submission.  Yet, if she surrendered she would have to leave again
and, this time, not return.  Trembling with forced discipline, she lowered her
arms.  "Thank you, my lord.  I will serve you well.  Aye.  I will serve
you well."  Eleanor set off in a run to find nurse.

"Eleanor!"

She grabbed for
the stone corner of the keep to stop her force, her breaths in a pant as she
gazed upon his magnificence.  "Aye, my lord?"

"Shall we
wager who will be the first to break?" 

"
T
he garden never looked so
lovely."

Eleanor glanced
up at the sound of Lord Kyle's voice.  No matter her duty that day, he had
hovered near.  His banter had both bubbled her laughter and tugged at her
sacrifice.  He had teased and seduced, distracted and pleasured, until she
feared she might vaporize with passion.  A glorious end.

"A freeze is
not far away, my lord.  I thought to gather some remaining herbs to dry for the
winter."

Kyle inhaled a
deep breath.  "The air is thick with fragrances.  Whenever I smell these
pungent herbs, I'll think of you."

She knew not what
to say.  Eleanor heaped cut sage, rosemary, fennel and even a little basil in
the basket and pushed to a stand.  "I know you have important duties, my
lord.  I'll not run away.  I promise."

"Ah." 
He took her basket from her hands and walked beside her.  "'Tis true I
wish to be near you, but another reason draws me to your side.  Brigham."

She fought the
sudden panic the name birthed in her chest.  "I must admit, he's changed,
my lord.  He's cool of manner today, but polite, more civil than before."

"Aye." 
He nodded.  "He's different with me as well.  He attempts brotherly love. 
And yet . . ."   His footsteps ceased.

Eleanor paused
beside Kyle in the crisp October air.  As she waited, she slipped the basket
from his hands, but he didn't notice, his thoughts about Brigham had him so
distracted.

"He reminds
me of when I acted as squire in the Holy Land during the crusade."  He
ambled along the path again, his hands clasped behind his back in his familiar
manner.

She kept pace, of
a sudden aware how little she knew about the man she loved.

"'Twas a
river of humanity, that land, an excitement to a lad of ten years and five. 
The world crossed paths in a restless stream that never ceased.  I saw a man
from the East all swathed in white cloth, his skin the color of chestnuts.  He
carried a basket that contained a giant viper."  He paused his steps.

She paused as
well. 

"The serpent
would sit on its coiled tail upon the dusty earth, fan its head, sway one way,
then the other."

Mesmerized,
Eleanor watched Kyle's muscular hands move in smooth descriptive motions.  She
wished she had been with him to see such a spectacle.

"The
creature could charm you into a fascination of its fluid movements, yet it
watched your eyes like a man does in battle, and would sway, and sway, almost a
smile upon its face." 

He hesitated. 

"Then
strike!"  Kyle flashed out his hand and grabbed her wrist.  His eyes of
blue steel burned into hers.  "'Twould sink deep its poison."

Eleanor gulped. 
Her gaze locked with his as heat radiated from his touch, as her rapid breaths
mingled with his.  He had ensnared her like the viper and held her a willing
prisoner.  Her body throbbed as if he had released himself deep beside her
womb.  His intent?

Passion flashed
in Kyle's eyes as he read her reaction.  "My release would not be poison,
love, although 'twould be deep.  A grand thought that."

As if reluctant,
he loosened his grip and stretched his gaze out to the hills beyond the stone
wall.  "I relay the tale as a warning that we must take care we're not
lulled by Brigham's sudden charms.  He might strike us unawares."  He
sighed and looked down at her.  "'Tis one reason why I stay near, to
protect you."  A grin twitched one corner of his mouth.  "
One
reason."

Eleanor smiled. 
Dear heaven, how she loved him.  And she hungered to hear more of his past. 
"Did you save the king's life when you fought the Holy war?"

Kyle showed his
surprise.  "Another secret revealed?  Jerrod's loose tongue again?" 
He shook his head.  "Nay, that happened in Wales.  And Holy?  'Twas called
such a crusade, but atrocities abounded on both sides.  'Tis part of war, but I
sometimes wonder if our Heavenly Lord is pleased by the carnage."

"But,
surely, your cause was great."

Kyle sank into
thought--troubled thoughts, from the expression on his face.  "In
Nazareth, King Edward ordered all killed.  All."

Revulsion turned
her stomach.  "But, what about the women and children?"

"The entire
village was obliterated.  The streets ran red until nary a soul breathed. 
Bodies lay strewn where they had fallen.  The thirsty ground soaked up the
blood 'til was as a huge stain upon the earth."

"If you
believed him in error with his command, couldn't you have expressed your
opinion?  Couldn't you have refused?"

He cocked a brow
as if amazed.  "Refuse my King?  Never!  Persuade, perhaps, but never
refuse.  I've sworn my fealty." 

Eleanor hopes
withered with Kyle's
‘persuade but never refuse’ explanation.  She bit
her tongue to prevent repeating his own words to him that he would never refuse
his king.  Heartsick, she wandered toward the rose garden at the end of the
stone walk, forcing her mind to accept the unchangeable.  Kyle owed his loyalty
to a man who exercised any extreme of power to accomplish his goal, even death,
while Kyle's only power lay in persuasion, and if he failed to convince the
king, then Kyle would obey.  He would wed Mellisande no matter how much he
loathed the lady, all because he had sworn his fealty.  And yet Eleanor had
known as much.  So why did her wounded heart still struggle with impossible fantasies? 
Sir Jerrod had warned her that the king would never allow Kyle to wed a peasant
instead of his cousin.  ‘Twas forbidden.  And Sir Jerrod had also warned her
that Kyle risked his life in the attempt. 

Smoke.  Fire. 
Screams.  Death
. 

Eleanor shuddered
with remembrance of the vision.  Somehow, she must convince Kyle to betray his
honor in relation to her and forget the ill-fated wager.  She must sacrifice
her happiness to make certain he lived.  Even though the sacrifice seared like
a hot knife in her chest. 

"Our liege
lord is both noble and ruthless, Eleanor, a fact we will do well to remember. 
We must proceed with intricate caution so as to outmaneuver the King of
Manipulation."

Eleanor paused to
bolster her faltering courage.  She lifted her chin and challenged the
conviction in his expression.  "My lord, I plead with you not to request
my hand in marriage.  The king's temper at such an effrontery might have
deathly consequences."

He laughed and
cocked a brow.  "Then you wish me to wed Mellisande?"

"Nay!  'Tis
only that you increase the insult by replacing her with me."

"You have no
faith in my persuasive powers, love.  You wave the white flag of surrender
before the battle begins."

Eleanor shook her
head with disbelief.  "You speak as if you still hope he will agree."

"'Tis
true."  He cast her a confident grin.  "You of all God's creations
should know how persistent my tactics when I am determined."

Eleanor couldn't
help but smile at his confidence. "Aye, my lord.  You could persuade the
sun to stay abed if you so decided."

Desire darkened
his eyes.  "'Tis not the sun I wish in my bed, although your smile is as
bright."

Eleanor glanced
away in hopes he wouldn't see how her cheeks burned. To resist Kyle's
sensuality she knew she must busy herself with the mundane.  "I must be
about my duties, my lord."

"Ah.  And
what do we next?  Tend the rose garden?"

She let her gaze
wander over the weed-choked flowers.  "I wish Richard were here."

Kyle stiffened. 
"Is there another whom you favor?  Do you keep secrets from me?"

"Nay, my
lord.  Richard is the old gardener who was as a father to me in the convent. 
He grew the most beautiful of roses.  But I do have a secret to impart."

He tilted his
head toward her in that way of his that enlarged her heart.  "Then to save
time, reveal to me this mystery."

"'Tis Peter
and Nurse, my lord.  They share great affection, each for the other.  But they
have no land, and thus circumstances have decreed they remain separate." 
The too-similar subject renewed the ache in her chest.  To remind herself of
her status in life, she knelt and pulled a rampant chickbane from between the
path-stones.  "'Tis sad about love.  There are those wedded who have not a
flicker of feeling for their mates."  She held the weed in her fingers and
examined the tiny frond-like leaves, aware of the scent of fresh earth that
still clung to the roots. 
And yet those who share a great love
. . 
Eleanor clenched her fist around the plant, wondering if she had verbalized her
thoughts.

A growl caught
her attention.  She searched for the source and spied Rupert's pup that had the
corner of Kyle's black wool mantle in his mouth.

"What in
Satan's den . . ."

Eleanor dropped
the weed and rushed to grab the dog.  "King Edward!  Cease!"

Kyle paled and
glanced around him.  "King Edward is here?"

Eleanor's tongue
became caught between a gasp and a laugh.  She covered the odd sound with her
hand and swallowed.  "I didn't mean to alarm you, my lord.  'Tis the pup. 
He’s called King Edward.  He belongs to . . . to . . . someone."  Relief
flooded Eleanor that the pet had pulled them from the agony of truth about
impossible love.

With his face a
suspicious red, Kyle shook his leg in an attempt to discourage the hound.

Edward waggled
his head and tugged.  A growl quite furious for such a small beast rolled from
its throat.

"Might this
someone carry a shepherd's crook and is about to become fodder for my
field?"  Kyle's tone resounded in the afternoon air.

"Please,
don't be angry, my lord.  Rupert only thinks of you."

"Me?"  He
raised a brow.  "Hah!  'Tis you he seeks to mate.  I must do something
about that young buck."

Eleanor placed
her hands over her heated cheeks.  "Nay, my lord!  He says 'tis his duty
to fatten the sheep before the winter kill.  But he says King Edward keeps the
fold in a dither and runs them ragged.  He fears the meat will be tough and
scrawny and you'll be angered.  Yet he felt loathe to abandon him, so he asked
to leave him at the castle until the sheep are slain and dressed."  She
shrugged at Kyle’s disbelief.  "'Tis a simple request, Sire."

Kyle pursed his
mouth.  "I must give this shepherd more thought.  He's more persistent
than I gave him credit."  Then he glanced at the pup and laughed. 
"King Edward, you say?"  He studied the hound as it bounced after a
wind-blown leaf.  "'Tis a grand name for that long-eared scamp.  Longears,
instead of Longshanks.  Hah."  Kyle pointed his finger at the pup. 
"Sit, King Edward.  Roll over, King Edward.  Play dead."  A flash of
seriousness crossed his face. 

Edward lunged.

Kyle shook his
booted foot.  "Cease!  You'll mar my leather!  You are well named,
Longears.  You seek to eat me alive."

In spite of the
dreaded subject, Eleanor sat on the nearby bench and laughed.  Kyle looked
ridiculous as he stood tall on one foot, his other in a tug-of-war with a
writhing bundle not much larger than his boot.  The more Kyle struggled and
cursed, the more she laughed.  The herb basket tumbled from her lap onto the
ground.  The images of Kyle and the pup blurred in her tear-filled eyes.  Her
sides ached.  She doubled over, helpless from her mirth.

"So, you
think 'tis an amusement, woman?"

Eleanor could
only laugh in response.  Tears washed her cheeks.

Kyle sat beside
her, Edward in his massive hands.  The pup wiggled, its tongue curled in a
pant, a smile on its face, its ears drooped over Kyle's wrists like two silken
scarves.

"This scamp
shows me how I must look to you: all drooly from the mouth, apant with want, my
tongue ready to lick any part of you 'twill reach."

Eleanor swallowed
and gasped at the same time, then choked.  Her breasts throbbed; liquid fire
flamed in her womanhood.

"Pray tell,
love.  Why this particular name?"

She soothed the
sting in her throat with another swallow and swiped at her damp cheeks. 
"Rupert thought 'twould be a lark to order about his royal liege.  Yet, he
says the pup behaves as his namesake and never minds him, only does what he
wants.  He says he should have named him Naught."

"Naught?"

"Aye. 
Because he's naught but trouble."  She laughed again.

Kyle laughed as
well.  "Aye.  Both names are appropriate."  Then his humor shifted to
surprise.  "This frivolity, 'tis most pleasant.  An unusual experience for
me, my existence has been so filled with war and death."  He set the pup
on the stones, facing her, mischief in his eyes.  "Another spate of
laughter comes to mind.  As I recall, you're quite ticklish."  Quicker
than a starving man after the last morsel of food, Kyle grasped her waist and
tickled.

Unable to control
her giggles, Eleanor clutched at his forearms and pushed, but he refused
mercy.  "Nay, my lord, cease!"  She squealed with laughter as she
wriggled within his strong hands.  Tears again washed her cheeks.

Then the tickles
slowed to a sensuous massage, and in the span of a heartbeat, desire erupted
within her chest and spread throughout her body.  Fighting submission, she
moaned and closed her eyes. 

Kyle stilled, but
his hands on her waist intensified her longing.  She felt the heat of his rapid
breaths against her tear-streaked face, smelled the muskiness of his scent,
sensed his want.  Hungry for the sight of him, Eleanor gathered her bravery and
met the sultriness of his gaze.

Kyle hovered a
kiss away, his expression a turmoil between desire and discipline, the blue
depths of his eyes luring her into a charmed trance much as the viper in Kyle's
tale.  He might strike her, although not unawares.  A sinful part of her prayed
he would.