The Commander's Desire (23 page)

“
You would place your life
in Elwytha’s hands,” the Prince remarked. “Do you trust her so
greatly?” Clearly he would not, if that sharp, cynical look in his
obsidian eyes was any indication.

“
I will be armed,” the
Commander said, and that was the end of the discussion.

Elwytha fell silent, and picked at her bread.
Surely her brother didn’t plan a trap. Did he suspect her
reluctance to kill the Commander? Perhaps so, for she had demanded
the witness’s name. She had demanded further proof of the
Commander’s guilt. If Richard suspected she was unwilling to kill
her betrothed, would Richard take it upon himself to do so? And
what would she do if her own countrymen attacked them? Who then
would she fight for? Her brother, or the Commander?

One week ago that question would never have
entered her head. The fact that it did now disturbed her
greatly.

Chapter
Fourteen

The next morning,
Elwytha packed a small bag with the basic
necessities, fastened her thick woolen cloak with a ruby broach,
and joined the Commander at the stables after breakfast. He wore a
thick jerkin of leather armor, studded with metal—but no helmet,
she noted, watching him saddle his horse. The black snorted; white
puffs in the cold air. Elwytha was glad of her fur-lined cloak.
Cold nipped her nose and cheeks. Winter had at last
arrived.

A stable boy had already saddled Sir Duke, so
she tied on her leather bag and swung astride. She noted a pouch
hanging from the other side of her saddle. A water skin and
rations, she assumed.

Now the Commander swung astride his own
steed. He looked huge and fearsome in the armor. His long-sleeved
tunic and pants were black, and matched his hair. He wore his
dagger and two swords hung from his belt, one on each hip.

No armor for Elwytha, but she should not need
it in her own land. Then why did she wish for weapon?

She felt nervous about the trip ahead. Little
slumber had relaxed her mind last night. Troublesome worries
tangled her thoughts. No answers. Only questions. Perhaps today the
greatest of her questions would be answered—the truth of the
Commander’s guilt.

Again, she wondered if he would go to all
this trouble to prove his innocence if he were guilty. Riding into
the enemy land, he could be a lamb to the slaughter, for all he
knew.

But he would not be, Elwytha determined. She
would protect him from her brother’s men. She would receive an
answer to her questions.

How she longed for a sword!

The horses clopped across the drawbridge.
Elwytha drew alongside her betrothed. “Why do you wear no
helmet?”

“
I never wear a helmet,” he
said.

“
Thus your scar?”

“
Thus my scar,” he agreed.
“I cannot see well with a helmet on. I would see every enemy. And
every attack before it hits me.”

Elwytha smiled. How like him to be aware of
every situation…to plan and finish battles in his mind before they
ever began.

“
Shall we race to yonder
stand of trees?” she asked with a grin.

He smiled.

She leaned forward and pressed her knees into
Sir Duke’s sides. With a joyful leap, he sprang into a gallop. The
cold wind sliced icy fingers through Elwytha’s scalp as she
stretched low on Sir Duke’s neck, urging him on with soft words.
Hooves thundered, and Elwytha felt a wild, primitive joy surge as
they sped across the plain.

The Commander’s steed raced beside her, and
she slid a glance at his rider. A small smile edged his lips as he
cast her a glance, too. He sported with her. Just as she realized
this, the black charged ahead. Sir Duke seemed to sense the game,
for he doubled his stride, his great, valiant heart straining for
the win. They closed a little of the distance.

All too soon the trees approached, and
Elwytha pulled up on the reins. A race through the forest would
prove too dangerous. She couldn’t risk Sir Duke breaking a leg.
They trotted up to join the Commander.

“
A fine steed you have,”
Elwytha said, graciously conceding the win.

“
As is yours.”

She smiled and patted Sir Duke’s neck. “Never
a better.”

The Commander set a quick pace through the
forest, and then they cantered through the grassy hills on the
other side, steadily heading toward the mountains ahead.

By lunchtime they had reached the foothills,
and they dismounted by a fast flowing burn to feast on lunch while
the horses nibbled grass.

They ate silently for a time, while Elwytha
cast about for things to say. It wasn’t hard. Questions bubbled in
her. She wished to know more about the man beside her; ill-advised
as that may be. Her teeth crunched into a red, juicy apple, and she
licked her lips as juice dripped. “How did you learn to read?”

His lips curved a tiny bit. “You wish to know
about me, Elwytha? You want to be friends now?”

“
Have we ever been friends?
Nay. But I confess curiosity. Tell me how you learned.”

“
I wished to learn,” he
said. “As a boy, I saw the King reading missives. I wanted to do
the same. One day, at sword practice, I told the Prince. He told me
to come the next day to his school room.”

“
The King allowed
it?”

“
He knew nothing about it.
Not then. The priest didn’t want to teach me and complained to the
Queen. She ordered me back to the stables.”

He fell silent, and Elwytha again felt
compassion for the boy he had been; fatherless, mocked, and denied
the education he desired. “So what happened?” she encouraged.

“
The Prince spoke to the
King. He decided to allow it.”

Elwytha was amazed. “Why?”

“
It pleased the Prince. And
the King approved of my sword skills. He thought me a fitting
companion for the Prince to sharpen his sword against.”

“
Who is better, after all
these years? You, or the Prince?”

The Commander smiled. “We are evenly matched.
Both the best in the land.”

Elwytha well believed this, after battling
him with sticks the other day. “Was the Queen displeased to be
overruled?”

“
Yes. But her health was
failing, so she said no more. She’d always been frail. She died a
year later.”

“
So that’s why the Prince
has no brothers or sisters.”

The Commander turned to pluck an apple from
his sack. “Yes,” he said in a low voice.

“
Interesting,” she said, and
finished her own apple.

“
What of you, Elwytha?” he
asked. “You are learned as well. Unusual for a woman. Were you a
fine student, or did you skip letters to practice with the
daggers?” His gray eyes met hers, and they lightened to pure silver
when he smiled.

Elwytha couldn’t help but grin back. “How
well you know me after so little time, Commander. In fact, my
brother Thor is the one who insisted I learn from the priest. I
enjoyed it, but escaped at every opportunity I could to battle my
brothers in the yard.”

“
Your father allowed
it?”

Elwytha waved a hand. “He didn’t care. I
could be an imbecile for all his notice. He did approve of my
battle skills, though. So I tried to please him with that.” She
tossed her apple core to Sir Duke. “And I learned my letters at the
same time. I couldn’t allow my brothers to be more learned than
I.”

“
A pure
motivation.”

“
Sneer not at me,
Commander,” she said, tilting her nose in the air. “I am as well
learned as any man. Perhaps more so than you,” she added
slyly.

“
The Prince’s tutor taught
me all he learned,” he returned mildly. “I determined to learn it.
I wished every drop of knowledge.”

“
How pure of heart you are,
Commander. And, I grant, far cleverer than I thought when I first
met you.”

He smiled, then. “You approve something about
me.”

“
Yes, I respect you. I think
you know that.”

His gaze held hers. “Now I need only clear my
name?”

Her breath caught at his implication. “And I
would be your willing wife?”

“
Would you?”

Elwytha’s heart beat faster and she looked
away. “I don’t know. I can make no decisions until I know the
truth.”

His calloused fingers touched her chin,
urging her to meet his gaze again. She stared at him, not knowing
what to say. Tumult swirled through her heart. Her hand closed
around his wide, strong wrist.

“
I would make no promises I
cannot keep,” she whispered, and tugged it down to her lap. She
glanced down at his hand, with hers over its top. His was large and
brown and well sculpted. Hers was smaller, and a lighter brown.
Upsetting the balance, his fingers curled over hers, dwarfing them.
She felt secure and protected with his warm hand holding hers.
Unsettlingly so.

She tugged hers free. “It’s time to ride. Or
we won’t arrive until sundown.”

* * * * *

The horses picked their way to the top of the
mountain. The wind bit, strong and icy at the top of the ridge.
Below them lay the dark blue loch. In the distance, she glimpsed
her family cottage in a spot cleared of trees. Other huts dotted
the far shore, but no smoke rose from any of them. Snow would fly
soon and no one wanted to be trapped in that private cove with no
avenue for supply delivery.

Except for the hermit, of course.

Huddling inside her cloak, Elwytha took the
lead, following an old, remembered path down the other side of the
mountain. If she remembered correctly, it would pass near the
hermit’s hut. Perchance he would be home. Otherwise, they would
need to search for him on the morrow.

Her ears began to hurt from the freezing
cold, and she tugged her hood tighter under her chin. “Good boy,
Sir Duke,” she murmured to her champion steed. “You remember the
way, don’t you, boy?”

Gray clouds wisped on the far horizon, and
Elwytha shivered. At these temperatures, it could snow. Still early
for it, but one never knew. If it did snow, they’d have to leave
through the pass. The mountainside would be too treacherous.

They dipped down now, to the tree line. Ash,
birch and oak trees blocked a little of the wind. Elwytha’s fingers
were red and cold now, and her nose dripped in a most unladylike
fashion.

So far, she’d seen no sign of anyone. No
hermit. No tracks of warriors laying a trap. All was silent in the
wood. Russet leaves drifted to the ground, and the crisp, pungent
scent of earth smelled heavenly.

In a level area, the Commander moved
alongside her. “How much further?” His ears looked red, as did his
bent nose. At least now he had a little hair to warm his head.

Elwytha gestured ahead. “Down a few more
turns. Then right at a huge boulder.”

He nodded, but continued at her side,
scanning the woods as they rode. She sensed caution in his posture,
and she sharpened her ears, listening as well.

Nothing, except a few chattering red
squirrels and the twitter of a bird high above.

The boulder was exactly as she remembered it,
Elwytha was glad to see. As high as a horse, it sat like a huge,
squat triangle. Leaves decorated the top.

“
Now just a little further,”
she said, and again took the lead. Here was a faint trail, worn by
the hermit. She saw no horseshoe prints. No tracks at all, except
for those of a wild goat.

At last, ahead, she saw the familiar corrie,
and then the dilapidated, leaning hut tucked into the hollow. Smoke
curled out the chimney, and relief filled her. He was home.

Elwytha dismounted and tied Sir Duke to a
branch. “Daniel?” she called. “It’s Princess Elwytha. I’ve come to
visit you.”

Silence. The Commander dismounted, too. His
massive presence beside her gave her a feeling of security in the
uneasy silence.

Elwytha stepped closer. “Daniel?” The
Commander put a hand on her arm, stopping her.

“
Let him come out. Go no
closer.”

It seemed a good plan. Elwytha had no desire
to enter that precarious hut.

Elwytha heard a faint sound behind her, and
spun. She saw the flash of the Commander’s sword, and then a high
cry as the old man huddled against a tree. His arms covered his
face and white hair stuck out in all directions. He wore ragged,
filthy clothes. A dagger gleamed at his belt.

“
We wish peace,” the
Commander said, resheathing his weapon.

Elwytha spoke soothingly. “Daniel? Do you
remember me? It’s Elwytha.”

The old man peeked over his crossed wrists.
One eye looked a rheumy blue, and the other, a dark brown one,
stared off in a completely different direction.

“
Princess Elwytha? Truly, it
is you!” The hermit lowered his arms and grinned, revealing one
snaggly tooth. “It’s been long since you visited your old
friend.”

“
True. We couldn’t make it
up here the last few years, because of the wars.” She glanced at
the Commander. “And then Thor died.”

“
Aye, Thor.” The old man
ambled closer, clutching a walking stick in one gnarled hand. She
moved aside and the hermit continued toward his hut. “Would you
like a hot cuppa? I’ve a nice bark tea this year.” He cast a
wolfish grin over his shoulder. “But only for those with a stern
stomach. Perhaps not for you, Princess?”

“
We can’t stay. I need to
ask you about Thor’s death.”