Midnight Warrior (8 page)

Gage nodded dismissingly at LeFont, and the captain rode away. “You did not answer me.”

“What do you wish me to say?” she said impatiently. “He was not unkind.”

“And you were grateful?”

“When I was brought here I was scarcely more than a child and had known a freedom greater than you can dream. Do you think I would be grateful to have a yoke placed around my neck?”

“You were not born a slave? Then you must have been a captive of war.” He smiled. “How strange, when your perfect Gwynthal has no wars.”

“Why should it matter how I came to be here? I’m here and I’m healing your friend.”

“Yes, you are.” He sat down by the fire and stared into the flames. A ray of late afternoon sunlight fell
upon him and she suddenly realized that his dark mane was not black but a vibrant deep red. Strange that except in sunlight it looked deepest ebony. He said, “But I find you a disturbing woman and it makes me uneasy that I know little about you. It’s not safe.”

He found her disturbing? She had never known a man who generated such disquiet in her. She experienced a queer breathlessness whenever he looked in her direction. “Malik is safe with me. I could not harm him even if I would.”

His gaze narrowed on her face. “Why not?”

“I’m a healer,” she said simply. “It would destroy me.”

“I’ve known many healers on the battlefields where I’ve fought and none of them were destroyed when their charges died.” He smiled cynically. “In fact, I’ve suspected some of them were bribed to help the process.”

“Then they were not true healers.”

“And it could never happen in Gwynthal.”

“Never.”

At her quiet answer, the mockery faded from his expression. “I’m tempted to believe you.”

“Good. Then you will not have to stare at me as if you suspected any minute I would slit Malik’s throat.”

“Perhaps that’s not the only reason I stare at you.”

Something in his tone caused her to stiffen with wariness. “Of course it is. You trust no one and you thought me a danger to your friend.”

“You have a leaf in your hair.”

“What?”

He rose lithely to his feet and crossed the four paces separating them. He reached out and plucked the small leaf from her hair before lightly touching the tendrils at her temples. “Your hair’s very thick, isn’t it? It’s like a bright silky web …”

The breathlessness had returned and with it a weakness in her knees. He was huge and powerful towering
over her, and she gazed up at him in helpless fascination. She had not noticed the deep curve of his lower lip. She had a sudden impulse to brush the pad of her finger over it.

She stepped back hurriedly and glanced away. “Web, indeed,” she said brusquely. “It catches everything, that’s why I keep it tied back.” She glanced down the hill. “I wonder where my water is? The captain promised that he’d have a man bring it.”

She could feel his intent glance on her averted face, but when he spoke his tone was impassive. “Then he’ll be here soon. LeFont does not tolerate laxity.”

“And neither do you,” she said shrewdly.

“And neither do I,” he agreed. “I have little patience for those who do not perform well.”

“We are ready to leave, my lord,” LeFont called from across the camp. He was now at the head of a column of men whose armor gleamed in the sunlight.

“Good journey,” Gage said. “Give his grace my good wishes and respect. I’ll expect you back in three days’ time.”

LeFont nodded and lifted his hand and motioned the company forward. How sad that such a splendid parade should be wasted on the making of war, Brynn thought. It was a proud, bold sight—prancing horses, mail-clad soldiers, pennants flying in the crisp breeze.

The pennants …

“You seem to find my captain of undue interest,” Gage said with an edge to his voice.

“He is a fine-looking man,” she said absently. “But I was looking at the pennant. It’s the first time I’ve noticed it.” She pointed to the red insignia blazoned on the white background. “It is most unusual. I’ve seen lions and stags and many other symbols, but never a ball of fire.”

“It’s not a ball of fire, it’s a comet.”

“A comet!”

“Why not? It appeared in the sky last spring. I saw it, I wanted it, it was mine. Do you dislike it?”

“No. I think it beautiful.” But she stared after the company of soldiers with trepidation. What kind of man was Gage Dumont to have chosen such a symbol? She had known no fear, but even the good monks had crossed themselves when they saw that comet. Yet Gage Dumont had made this supreme gesture of defiance. She felt a sudden desire to escape his presence. “I think I will go search for my water. It is taking far too long.” She started quickly down the hill, her feet stumbling on the scraggly tussocks.

She could feel him watching her but he did not follow.

I saw it
.
I wanted it. It was mine
. Arrogant words from an arrogant man. But she had an idea he was much more than he seemed. She glanced back at LeFont, who was now almost out of sight around the bend in the hill. She wished she had not noticed that pennant with its bold comet. It brought back memories of the night she had watched the comet streak across the heavens. The thought that somewhere that same night Gage Dumont had also been looking up at that comet gave her a sense of intimate bonding.

Bonding? Sweet Mary, even their response to the comet had been different. She had stared in wonder and delight. He had decided to take it for his own. There could never be a bonding between them.

Brynn opened her eyes at dawn three days later to see Gage Dumont staring at her across the tent. She should be accustomed to it, she thought drowsily. His gaze always seemed to be on her since that day he had plucked the leaf from her hair.

The pearl-gray rays streamed over him, highlighting the hollow beneath his high cheekbones and turning his ice-blue eyes to the glittering metallic shade
found in fine daggers. He looked as if he were carved from granite, warrior-hard and without mercy.

She inhaled sharply, coming wide awake. Her hands slowly clenched into fists at her side. There was something different in the way he was staring at her. At first there had been antagonism and annoyance and then, lately, a kind of catlike watchfulness, as if he were trying to determine something regarding her. The antagonism and annoyance were still present, but whatever he had been trying to fathom had now been resolved.

I saw it. I wanted it. It was mine
.

He might look carved from granite, but granite was cold and he did not make her feel cold. She could feel the heat sting her cheeks and a strange liquid weakness in her knees. Fear? No, it was not fear either.

Whatever it was, she must push it away. Push him away.

She closed her eyes and nestled closer to Malik.

She heard a sound that might have been a low curse and was acutely aware of the waves of displeasure Gage Dumont was emitting.

She did not open her eyes.

“You should not still be here,” Malik told Gage. “LeFont says William has pushed on toward London. You should be with him, protecting your interests.”

“I sent a token company of men,” Gage said. “We’ll join him when you’re better.”

“That may not be until spring. I cannot even sit up yet.” He wrinkled his nose in disgust. “I cannot do anything. I eat and then go back to sleep like a babe.”

Gage smiled. “I believe you’re a bit impatient. It’s been only four days since we thought you a dead man.”

“I thought I was too.” He glanced at the flap of the tent. “Where is she?”

“The woman? She’s outside, boiling water. She had to prepare more salve for your wound.”

“It must be a truly wonderful salve. I’ve never seen a wound heal so quickly.”

“You just complained your recovery was taking too long,” Gage teased. “Perhaps the woman is not completely without skill?”

“Brynn.”

“What?”

“Her name is Brynn. You never refer to her by name, just ‘the woman.’ ”

“What difference does it make?”

“Her name is Brynn,” Malik repeated. “And it makes a difference.”

“By heaven, I believe you’re besotted with the wench.”

“Besotted is not the word.”

“You’ve decided that you’ve been struck by cupid’s arrow again?”

He shook his head. “No, I thought that only because of the radiance.”

Gage smiled sardonically. “And the radiance has faded?”

“It hasn’t faded … it’s just … I cannot think of her in intimate terms. It would be a presumption.”

“It wasn’t a presumption when you became enamored with the Duchess of Balmarin.”

“That was different.”

“You said that before. It most certainly is different. One woman is a duchess and the other a slave. The duchess was charming and civilized and your ‘radiant’ healer is prickly as a bramble bush, has a tongue like a scourge, and is the most difficult woman I’ve ever encountered.”

“I like her,” Malik said simply.

“You have strange tastes.”

“I know.” Malik beamed. “Why else would I
choose you as a friend? You are not known to be without briars yourself. I’ve decided that I was sent into this world to cast out demons.”

“You were sent into this world to torment and exasperate.” Gage looked away from him. “Do you want me to give you the woman?”

“No.” Malik’s gaze narrowed on his face. “That relieves you. Interesting.”

“I’m sure I’m not to be spared learning what you mean by that remark.”

“Of course not. Do I not share everything with you? I find it interesting that you are clearly trying to look on Brynn merely as a faceless woman and not a person and that you did not wish to relinquish her.”

“Nonsense. I wouldn’t offer to give her to you if I wanted to keep her.”

“Unless you are in conflict regarding her. You value my humble life and she saved it. Perhaps giving her to me was your way of removing temptation from your path.”

“You think I want to bed the wench?”

“I know you want to bed Brynn,” Malik said softly. “I’ve had nothing to do but lie here for the last four days and watch you. I know you well, Gage. I could hardly mistake lust when I have seen it so often in you.”

Gage shrugged. “I’ve been without a woman since we reached England and she has a fine body. It is a natural response.”

“I’m the last one to give you argument. Lust is entirely natural; it is the anger that I find puzzling. Why do you resent wanting to bed her?”

“I don’t resent—” He broke off and then said harshly, “Well, perhaps I do. Why is it important? Are you trying to keep me from using her?”

Malik shook his head. “I believe you should bed her and be done with it. You will be kinder to her once you’ve sated yourself, and I think she needs kindness.”

“I’m surprised you’re not asking me to free her.”

“In a land ravaged by war? She is safer belonging to you. Perhaps later …” He yawned. “All of this chatter is making me tired. Go away. I think I’ll take another nap.…”

Gage rose to his feet and moved toward the entrance of the tent.

Brynn was standing by the fire, briskly stirring a mixture in the cooking pot. He stood there, watching her.

Her arms were firm and strong as they moved in a circular motion. The rising steam made the hair at her temples curl riotously and the wool of her gown cling to her full breasts, delineating her nipples.

She loves to be touched
.

Tight as a glove
.

Bed her and be done with it
.

He was hardening, readying to the point of pain. He was not even sure at what point he had become aware that he wanted her. That afternoon when he had touched her hair? Yes, he had wanted her then; his palm had tingled as it had touched that silky softness. But he had tried to dismiss it, to go back to that frustration and annoyance he had known before. He did not like wanting a woman with this desperate intensity, feeling that he had to have her.

Yet why did he keep fighting it? She posed no real danger to him. She was his property. Why didn’t he just pick her up and carry her into that stand of trees and sate himself as Malik had advised him to do? She was no virgin who would faint at the touch of a man. She had been trained to please Richard of Redfern, and he’d wager that whoreson’s tastes were as twisted as his morals. Rage instantly seared him at the vision the thought brought to mind. Jealousy, he wondered incredulously. Impossible. He had never been jealous of any woman.

“Have you nothing better to do than stand there,
gaping at me?” she asked without looking up from the brew she was stirring.

Irritation jabbed at him. Her words were always sweet and soft for Malik; even with LeFont she was polite. It was only Gage who received the rough edge of her tongue.

“What are you doing?” Gage grimaced as he saw her tear up leaves and drop them into the pot. “You’re not going to rub that slop on Malik?”

“Every bit of it.” Brynn stirred the mixture with renewed vigor. “And you need not watch me every minute of every day. Do you think I’m going to poison him?”

“No.” He shrugged. “But he may think so when you force that on him.”

“He knows I do only what’s good for him.” She glanced down at the pot. “Even if you doubt me.”

“How can I doubt you?” Gage asked mockingly. “When Malik assures me you’re either a saint or an angel?” He sat down on the ground and wrapped his arms about his knees. “It would be sacrilege and I would instantly be cast down into hell.”

She snorted. “I would not think hell would hold any great terror for you.”

“Does that mean you believe I’m an archdemon?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“But then, you don’t say much of anything, do you? Except to order me about.”

“I order you about only when it’s necessary for Malik’s well-being. You wanted him cured and I cannot do everything myself.” She moistened her lips. “I want to move him from this place.”

“He’s not strong enough yet.”

“I have no intention of moving him any great distance. Just a few miles.” She gestured to the north. “Perhaps to the forest over there.”

“Why?”

“It is best.”

“For Malik?”