Sharon Schulze - L'eau Clair Chronicles 03 (13 page)

“Rest awhile. Try to sleep.

There will be time enough in the morning to talk again.”

Lily wanted to continue the conversation, but she could see that Ian would not. He’d already given her so much to consider, she doubted she’d rest at all. But she settled herself more comfortably on the hard ground.

The last thing she heard before she drifted off was his deep, strong voice promising that he would protect her, no matter what.

A strange clattering sound jolted Lily from sleep. It seemed to rise from the earth itself, shattering the silence. She sat up and discovered that her skirts were tangled with Ian’s legs.

He already had his sword in hand. He flipped her bliaut out of his way and stood. His booted feet made quick work of extinguishing the glowing embers, all that remained of their fire. In the near dark, he tugged his dagger from the sheath at his waist and handed it to her.

“No matter what, stay behind me,” he whispered harshly as he crept toward the doorway.

The sound of hoofbeats stopped. She could just make out the brush Of Ian’s tunic against the rough stone wall of the cave, and then there was silence.

Her heartbeat echoed loudly in her ears, and she clutched Ian’s dagger until her knuckles ached. Who would come for them in the night? Who even knew they were here?

“God damn it, Dai!” Ian cried. Rocks clattered outside the cave.

“It’s a wonder I didn’t skewer you.”

She could hear someone’s gasping breath—Dai’s, perhaps—then the thump of running feet.

“Lily, come quickly,” Inn called.

Moving with care in the darkness, she left the cave. At least there was still moonlight outside, faint but helpful.

Partway down the hill, Inn supported a slumped-over man.

“Dai’s been shot,” he told her as she rushed to them.

“Took an arrow in the shoulder. Come help me. We’ve got to get him inside.”

Dui raised his head, moaning from the effort.

“Nay, milord. You must go. Now. They’ll be on your trail by mom. Don’t worry about me. Somebody’il find me soon enough.”

“Who did this?” Inn asked, ignoring Dai’s instructions and half carrying him to the cave.

“Llywelyn’s man. He’s dead, but there’ll be others.”

Dui coughed, and blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.

“Go, damn you! Who knows what he’ll do to you?” he gasped.

“Or to her. Will you let him win?”

Inn brought him inside and struck his flint to a candle stub. Lily looked at the old man in the flickering light and knew he could not last. She met Inn’s gaze. He knew it, too, though she could see he didn’t want to accept the fact.

“Please, milord!” Dui cried, attempting to rise.

Lily shook her head sharply when Inn opened his mouth to speak. She grabbed his arm and tugged him to the mouth of the cave.

“He’s done for, Inn. There’s no way you can help him but to do as he asks. At least he’ll rest easy, knowing you escaped.”

He closed his pain-filled eyes and nodded.

“Gather our things, quickly, while I say goodbye.”

She stuffed their possessions into the packs, with complete disregard for everything but speed.

“Lily, come here,” Ian called as she closed the flap on the last bag.

He’d propped Dai up against the wall. He looked ghastly, his wrinkled face as pale as his linen shirt.

Lily knelt down beside him and took his hand. ““Tis good to see you, milady,” he said. His voice sounded weaker than before.

“Take care of the Dragon.” When he met her gaze, she could see that he knew she cared about Ian.

Dai picked up Ian’s hand and held it with hers.

“And you take care of her, lad. You were meant to find her. I know you’ll keep her safe.”

As they watched, Dai’s eyes drifted shut, and his breath eased away in a sigh.

Lily made the sign of the cross, and saw Ian do the same. His eyes shuttered, his face cold, he unbuckled Dai’s sword belt and took it with him as he stood.

“It was a gift from my father,” he said quietly.

“Dai wanted me to have it.”

She drew Dai’s cloak over his face as Ian shouldered the saddlebags. Then, giving Dai’s body one last look, she snuffed the candle and left the cave.

Ian took her ann to help her over the loose rocks dotting the hillside.

“Dai brought an extra horse. They’re tethered with Mouse. We’ll be able to make better time, with three mounts.”

“Where will we go?”

“I’m not certain. Ashby might be best. It’s close by, and since it’s a Norman keep, Llywelyn doesn’t have access to it without Nicholas’s leave—which he Will not get,” he snapped.

“Nicholas is your brother-by-marriage?” she asked, gasping at the headlong pace he set. He grabbed her just as her feet slid out from under her.

“Aye.” He slowed down a bit, a consideration she appreciated greatly. Her skirts hampered her; there was some advantage to men’s garb, she thought.

“You do know how to ride?” he asked when they reached the horses.

“No. I’m sorry.”

He began to curse.

“Mouse seems a gentle animal.”

“He’s a trained war-horse, Lily. A beast like this is quite capable of killing you where you stand—or unseating you and crushing you beneath his hooves. Don’t let his name—or the fact that he seems to like you—lead you to believe him to be something he’s not.”

She swallowed the huge lump suddenly clogging her throat, but she stood her ground. In truth, it was the thought of sitting up so high by herself that she found frightening—a foolish reaction for one who’d climbed a castle wall, she knew. But a wall did not move.

However, she didn’t want Ian to see her fear.

“He’s used to me. I could ride him.” Still he hesitated.

“What alternative do we have? I refuse to slow us down—I’m endangering you enough as it is. Either put me up on that horse, or go on alone.” She folded her arms about herself for comfort. Both choices left her shaking like a leaf.

“That would be best, anyway.”

It was difficult to see in the moonlight filtering through the trees, but she thought Ian looked at her as though she were daft. Perhaps she was. However, he saddled Mouse and loaded the packs onto the spare horse.

He tossed her onto Mouse’s broad back and handed her the reins without a word to her, though he stopped to murmur to the horse.

Swinging into the saddle, he wheeled his mount around until it sidled up to Mouse.

“Just let him do the work.

Trust that he’ll keep you safe.” He leaned over and kissed her lips, hard.

“Stay with me and be careful.”

The terrain between the cave and Ashby Keep was rocky, hilly, and difficult to traverse. The mere sliver of moon hanging low in the night sky didn’t do much to help light their way. At times they scarcely made any headway at all.

Lily clung to the saddle with one hand and the reins with the other, although Mouse seemed to manage fine without her guidance. Trying to ignore the way her heart raced at the remembrance of Ian’s mouth upon hers, she turned her attention instead to staying in the saddle. For the first time on this journey, she rode astride, with her skirts all rucked up about her knees. The skin along the insides of her legs had begun to chafe already.

Ian halted beside her as dawn began to brighten the sky.

“I don’t believe we’re being followed. Not yet, at any rate. We’ll rest for a bit, eat, and let the horses drink.”

He pointed to a tiny stream.

He helped her down and held her steady until her legs stopped shaking.

“Here,” he said, scooping her up in his arms and carrying her to an area carpeted with dead leaves.

“You rest, while I take care of the horses.”

Though it went against the grain to sit and let him wait upon her, Lily accepted his help gratefully. Her legs felt boneless, and her thighs burned. She didn’t think she could have been much help. So she spread out her cloak and basked in the wintery sunshine, letting it soothe her. So much had happened in the past few days, she felt battered and confused.

And now she worried whether her family would accept her.

What would Ian’s sister, Catrin, think, when he rode in with her? They had been raised in a noble household.

Lady Catrin would expect Lily to know all sorts of skills that Lily knew she lacked. She was unfamiliar with any other life but the cloister.

And her sister, Gillian. Gilly, her mother had called her.

Lily fought back tears. How she wished her mother had lived long enough to see her husband and daughter again!

Her grief must have run deep, at being told they’d died.

Certainly she’d never recovered from the loss.

Llywelyn had deprived not only Gillian of a mother, but Lily, as well.

Her rage at Llywelyn grew every time she thought of what he’d done to her, to her family. Was the power he would gain worth such cruelty to his own kin?

And now Ian’s man, Dai, lay dead. Another sin to place at Llywelyn’s door, one she feared Ian would find difficult to forgive.

Despite the sun, she shuddered when she considered the things Llywelyn had done to her already. Being locked away in the vaults had been bad enough. She could only imagine what lay in store for her if he found her again.

She refused to consider that possibility. She’d rather die than live that way.

But if her family denied her sanctuary, she might not have a choice.

Perhaps Gillian was a haughty Norman lady. She might not wish to acknowledge an unknown sister, a potential usurper. Lily could not blame her if that was so.

But how she hoped she was wrong!

Still lost in thought—in worry—she didn’t notice that Ian had rejoined her until he handed her a piece of bread.

She accepted it with a murmured thanks and began to absently nibble on the crust. When he placed a water-beaded cup in her hand, she started, spilling the icy liquid in her lap.

She shrieked as the water soaked through her skirts, then began to laugh.

“Did you do that on purpose?”

Yielding to temptation, she tossed the dregs in his direction, catching him on the throat. The water ran down the neckline of his tunic.

“How could I?” he asked, brushing at the dampness.

“You did it to yourself.” But he grinned and, snatching up his own mug, flung the contents in her face.

She gave a muffled shriek again and, ignoring the water trickling over her cheeks, lunged for him. She caught him square in the chest, toppling him onto his back.

Before she could do more than gasp, he rolled her beneath him and licked delicately at her wet mouth.

The contrast between the cold air on her damp skin and the fiery heat of Ian’s body covering hers made all her senses come alive. He Ixaced her mouth with his tongue, over and over, until she knew no water remained on her lips, until she thought she’d weep if he didn’t kiss her.

She buffed her fingers in his hair and clung to him.

Feeling quite daring, she darted out her tongue to duel with his. He entered into the play with enthusiasm, but he still wouldn’t kiss her. Finally, when she thought she’d go mad with longing, she tightened her grip on his hair and tugged until he lifted his head.

He stared into her face for a long moment, his eyes the color of emeralds.

“What is it, milady?” he whispered against her lips.

“Have I displeased you?”

“Kiss me … please.”

“I was kissing you,” he murmured. He smiled.

“There are many kinds of kisses, sweeting. Would that I had time to show you all of them.”

She reached up to trace his mouth with her finger. He grabbed it with his strong white teeth and nibbled, sending waves of heat throughout her aching body.

He soothed the tiny hurt with his tongue, then levered himself off her.

“We both must be mad,” he told her. He helped her up and brushed at the leaves clinging to her gown.

“Every time we sit together, we end up writhing about on the ground like a pair of overheated snakes.”

He picked up the cups and shook out her cloak.

“It’s fortunate for us we’ll soon be surrounded by our loving—and extremely inquisitive—family. I can guarantee they won’t leave us alone together for a moment.”

He sounded as though he didn’t want her to draw any meaning from the attraction between them. It had been naught but a foolish dream. Embarrassed, Lily couldn’t meet his eyes.

Ian cupped her chin in his hand and lifted her face.

“I

am honored by your attention, Lily, truly. You are beautiful and brave, and you could do far better than me. Don’t waste yourself, your future, on a man with no heart to give.”

Forcing steel into her spine, Lily stared back into his eyes and told herself his words did not matter. But they did.

“I don’t agree, milord. But I’ll not embarrass you further.” She shook out her skirts and walked over to her horse.

“Shall we be on our way?”

How could she believe he didn’t want her? Ian wondered, going over their words yet again as they plodded along. What she’d heard had not been what he’d said at all. Christ, how did any man understand a woman?

Mayhap the problem was, indeed, that they seemed to wind up on their backs every chance they got. It was difficult to think clearly when all he wanted was to bare her delectable body to his greedy gaze and make a meal of her. She only grew more beautiful the longer he was around her, until it seemed he had become the randiest fool in creation.

If he was to place her hand on his aching flesh now, he’d have her on her back with her skirts over her head before she realized what he was about. Hell, before he knew what he’d done.

They couldn’t get to Ashby too soon for him. Tonight, he’d find a willing woman and exorcise this madness.

Then, perhaps, he could look her in the eye and treat her like the lady she was, and not some wanton camp follower.

Thinking about her helped keep his grief over Dai’s death at bay. He remembered what Dai had whispered to him as he lay dying. He’d claimed Lily was a fitting mate for him, even more so now, considering who she was.

And with the Dragon as her husband, perhaps Llywelyn would leave her alone.