Lynn Wood - Norman Brides 03 (6 page)

Her fear was his undoing. Both cursing the restlessness that drove him out of the camp to scout the surrounding area that morning, and the dying king’s premonition he would be unable to turn his back on his defenseless niece, Michel reached out and grabbed his soon-to-be ward’s small hand and began pulling her behind him to where the horses waited at a break in the trees. 

A brilliant smile bloomed on his companion’s lovely young face when Michel led her to where Arden grazed.  She stood quite willingly in his grasp as he lifted her up and settled her on Arden’s back, then mounted behind her, wrapping one arm loosely around her slender form to keep her from falling. The fact she did not pester him with questions as to where he was taking her forced him to acknowledge Elena concluded accompanying a stranger to an unknown destination was preferable to the one she feared Raulf would lead her to. 

The realization brought home to Michel just how much Elena feared the mysterious Baron Raulf.  Michel decided he would have to do something about the baron.  He could not have one of his nobleman kidnapping young ladies from their beds.  His mood lightened in anticipation of doing so.  The coming war for control of Calei would no doubt provide him with ample opportunity to carve the traitorous baron’s heart from his chest.

Though Elena maintained her wary silence, he could feel her tension in the way she held herself stiffly in the saddle in front of him, as if not entirely certain the direction he would take would be away from the men who sought her.  It wasn’t until he turned Arden in the opposite direction, back towards the cover of the trees, that he heard Elena’s relieved sigh and felt her relax against him. As Arden’s swift and sure gait increased the distance between them and her would-be pursuers, Elena turned into his arms, wrapped her own around his waist and rested her head against his chest in a gesture of innocent faith he found unnerving.  Within moments, she was sound asleep. 

Sighing with annoyance at the way his body was reacting to having her softness cuddled close against him, and reminding himself the maid was little more than the child he had at first assumed she was, he adjusted his cloak more closely around her back to protect her from the cold, and then directed Arden back to the camp where his men awaited their return.

Dawn was giving way to early morning when they rode into camp. Barnabas’ precious treasure slept blissfully in the warmth of Michel’s arms until the sudden halt to the rocking motion of Arden’s even steps woke her.  Elena could not suppress her gasp of surprise when she took in the number of men and horses in their midst.  Their tents covered half the mountain. Michel raised an inquiring brow when she stared up at him with wide, curious eyes, but she only shook her head in response, obviously concluding it was best for her chances to remain among them if she refrained from giving voice to the questions he could see swirling in her gaze.

His squire hurried to take charge of Arden, and Michel waited while Amele dismounted, then helped Elena to find her feet.  Michel dropped down beside her and motioned for one of his men to join them.  “Take care of our guest.  I imagine she would appreciate breakfast.”  Elena raised fearful eyes to his when she realized he meant to leave her.  “It’s all right. You’re safe here.  No one will hurt you.”

Nodding uncertainly, she allowed the soldier to lead her away from his side, but Michel noticed she kept glancing back over her shoulder in his direction as if to assure herself he wasn’t going to disappear on her. Sensing her anxiety, Michel sent an encouraging nod in her direction, and then he and Amele set off together across the camp towards his tent.

While the two men waited for the others to join them Michel enjoyed the food prepared for his return. The leaders from Calei still loyal to the blood of the true king, as well as Michel’s own commanders, soon gathered in the tent, filling the confined space with excited, masculine voices. Michel waited in silence, allowing their comments and exchanges to roll over him as he ate. 

Between them, they debated the unexpected bounty of having the king’s niece in their midst and what use her presence could best be put to in order to further their aims. After he took the measure of each man’s stance on the subject, he effectively called a halt to their fleeting proposals about Elena’s use to them with his blunt pronouncement.

“We’re sending her back to her uncle.”

“But, my prince, the maid could prove a valuable bargaining chip for our cause,” one of the Caleinians pointed out.

“A child is not a bargaining chip,” he rebuked sharply.

The man accepted Michel’s reprimand without affront, but that did not stop him from pointing out the obvious.  “As you command, my prince, but even if we do send the child back there is no way for us to prevent the culprit from simply spiriting her off a second time.  If the king’s guard has been penetrated there is no guarantee Lady Elena will be safe in the palace.”

Michel nodded, aware the man spoke the truth, but he was reluctant to deprive the gentle king of his niece’s presence in what would likely prove his final hours. He was still puzzling over how to ensure the maid’s safety when the opening of the tent was suddenly thrust aside and the topic of their discussion stood framed in the center of it.

His lips curved in an amused smile at her disheveled appearance, still wrapped in his overly large cloak, and with her tangled hair trailing behind her.  There was an indignant expression on her face as her gaze hurriedly searched the tent for his presence.  Her indignation didn’t lessen any when their glances met, but Michel sensed her relief at seeing him again.

An astonished silence fell over the gathering as everyone turned to see the identity of the intruder who would dare to interrupt their conference without invitation.  Michel’s glance met Elena’s suddenly uncertain one, but he couldn’t help but be impressed by the way she stood her ground beneath so much disapproving, male scrutiny.  “You’re not sending me back to the city.”

Michel suppressed his amusement at her command and raised his brows in response to her fierce declaration.  “We’re not?”

Elena’s lovely face flooded with color at his mild reply and she quickly dropped her gaze from the challenge in his, becoming belatedly aware of their interested audience.  Her response to his challenge was offered in an embarrassed voice in the direction of her feet.   Michel missed her muttered response.  “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

A fresh blush stained her cheeks when she raised her glance to his.  “I said I’m not a child.”

He let his eyes roam over her as if testing the truth of her assertion.  He was more comfortable with his need to protect her when he could safely tuck her away into the category of a child in need of rescuing.  But reminded of her uncle’s wish that he marry his precious Elena, Michel reluctantly acknowledged there was more to her effect on him than the uncomplicated excuse he previously thought to employ that his honor demanded he keep his vow to her dying uncle to protect his niece.

He was drawn to her, Michel conceded, the way a man is attracted to a woman’s beauty.  Certainly she didn’t lack a woman’s feminine charms.  He had not been unmindful of the fullness of her breasts when she slept in his arms or of her enticing womanly fragrance that clung to her even after a hard ride in a filthy sack tied to the back of a horse.

Such an attraction was an inconvenience he could ill afford at this stage of his plans.   What was he supposed to do? Attack the city with the king’s niece riding to war at his side as one of their company? He could hardly leave her behind in the wilderness to fend for herself and he was loath to assign a guard to remain with her.  The majority of the men who rode beneath his banner had waited their entire lives to take back their homeland.  He would not deprive them of their moment.  No.  It would be best for all concerned if he could find a family in Calei willing to take the maid in and keep her safe until the question of the kingship was resolved.  Once peace had been restored, he could assume his role of guardian of the girl and let her grow up a little before becoming some other man’s wife.

Satisfied with his reasoning Michel turned his attention in the direction of their uninvited guest and sought to inform her of his decision in regards to her immediate future. He noticed the way Elena was blushing beneath his intent regard and realized without the least bit of enthusiasm on his part that the budding attraction between them was not purely one-sided. Things were getting more complicated by the moment.  He silently cursed the dying king even as he responded to the challenge in his niece’s intent gaze. “As you wish,” he replied in a somewhat belated manner to her claim she was not a child, and then indicated with a nod towards the opening in the tent she should leave him and his men alone to continue their important discussion.

Ignoring his silent command, Elena instead peered curiously around the tent and at its occupants.  Michel concluded from her surprised gasp that she recognized some of the men gathered there.  She turned back to him and demanded imperiously. “Who are you?”

At the directness of her challenge, beneath the heavy weight of masculine outrage filling the tent, Michel was reminded once again of his twin.  Smiling at the memory, but unwilling to satisfy her curiosity, Michel replied, “I am not in league with your kidnappers, and that is all that need concern you at the moment.”

“They called you ‘my prince’.”

When her rescuer simply shrugged in response to her pointed reminder, Elena was forced to come to her own conclusions about his identity.  Her first impression that he was a stranger simply passing through the mountain trails on his way to another, undisclosed destination was obviously incorrect.  One did not travel with an army trailing after him for a simple trespass through the mountains. 

She examined the faces of each of the men regarding her silently and with more than a hint of umbrage at her disruption of their important conference.  Many of the men she recognized to be members of ancient Caleinian families, some of them nobleman in their own right.  Yet none challenged the royal greeting this stranger was given. She also noted that though he was the youngest among them, they appeared to accept without question the stranger’s authority over them. Comprehension was slow to dawn, but when it did, she almost tripped over her own astonishment.  She turned accusing eyes in Michel’s direction and exclaimed in an awed voice. “You’re one of them.”

“One of them?”  Michel echoed innocently.

“One of the grandsons.  My uncle explained that he was not the true king and how he sent emissaries to your family in Europe seeking the return of one of the true heirs to the throne.  You’re one of them.  You’re one of the grandsons, aren’t you? Why do you not enter the city?  My uncle would be overjoyed and so relieved to welcome you.”

“It is not that easy,” Michel replied, evasively, to Elena’s way of thinking.

“Why not?”

“Your uncle is no longer in control of the city.”

Puzzled by his conclusion, Elena contended, “That’s ridiculous.  He is the king.”

“Whose niece was kidnapped from her own bed, in his home, and while under his guard,” Michel spelled out for her. While Elena was still puzzling through the repercussions of his statement, he added pointedly, “If we enter the city now, they will kill your uncle.”

“They will kill him regardless,” Elena’s voice broke on her bitter retort.

“Yes,” Michel agreed, holding her tearful glance, “but I would rather not have his death on my hands.”

“Please don’t send me back.  You know what they will to do to me.”

Sensing, despite her desperate pleading, he was still undecided as to the matter of her fate, Elena hurried across the distance separating them and flung herself on her knees at his feet.  She clasped his hands in her own smaller ones and lifted tear-filled eyes to his.  “Please don’t send me back.  I beg of you. I will not be in your way here.  I can be useful.  Put me to work.  I do not know how to hunt or cook, but your men could teach me.  I can fetch clean water from the stream and help tend the horses.”

Michel stared down into her dusk colored eyes and knew he was lost.  He met Amele’s amused if resigned glance over the maid’s head, before bending down to assist Elena to her feet.  “You may stay.”

She let go of his hands and raised them to her face to cover her mouth.  He watched the relief flood her eyes and could only wonder at her terror of the past months, knowing her uncle would soon die and leave her completely at the mercy of the wolves that fought for the throne. 

“You may have this tent.  Do not leave the camp without an escort.”  She nodded, as if unable to trust herself to speak the gratitude he saw shining in her eyes.  Michel cuffed her chin in an affectionate gesture as if she was one of his sisters and turned and motioned to the others that they would continue discussing their plans elsewhere.

Michel was the last to file out of his now former tent. He glanced back in time to see Elena fall to her knees, her relief at her narrow escape obviously overcoming her ability to remain upright.  He watched her succumb to the deep sobs that wracked her slender frame, her back to the entrance to the tent, no doubt assuming she was safely alone to indulge in her emotional display. When he would have returned to comfort her, Amele’s hand on his arm stopped him and drew him away from the entrance.

“You have done enough, my prince.  Leave the maid to her tears.  She would be embarrassed by your pity.”

Michel reluctantly nodded his agreement and allowed himself to be led away from the sounds of the weeping girl.