Warrior's Deception (10 page)

Tom leaned against the mare’s middle with his hand against her tortured belly. “Get ready, I can feel another’n coming on.” Silver rattled out each labored breath.

Lenora squeezed the prickly rope halter until her knuckles turned white. The strands of the hemp rope hurt her fingers but gave her something to concentrate on instead of the pain in her heart. A silent prayer on her lips, she sneaked a look at Roen. He knelt near her mare, one leg braced against the equine. Lenora raised her gaze to find his eyes searching her face. The tremor in her voice bespoke the Pentup emotion she fought to contain. “No matter what happens, thank you, Roen.”

Silver thrashed out as the contraction possessed her body. The horse’s moans echoed in the tiny stall. Lenora fought to keep the mare still. Tom’s holler of “Pull!” could barely be discerned from the agonized cries of the horse and the physical straining of the three of them. The rope burned deeper into her palms. She heard Roen’s grunts as he reached to extract the small life from its mother’s womb.

“I’ve got it.” Roen pulled and sweat beaded across his forehead. The biceps of his arms contracted as he tugged on the foal. Another contraction shook the mare, and he renewed his tug-of-war. Silver’s movements became more frantic. Roen gave one last pull. A coal black, wet foal slid out onto the hay and puffed rapid breaths of freedom. Its mother, suddenly released from her pain, moaned softly in Lenora’s lap.

Through glistening, tear-filled eyes, she watched the newborn suck in life-giving air. The tiny rib cage expanded in short, jagged breaths. Tom threw Roen a rough grain sack and scooted over to Lenora. The gnarled stableman watched the tiny foal like a proud grandfather. “Look at ‘im, will ya? He’s a purty thing, right purty.”

“He’s beautiful,” Lenora agreed. She reached over and gave her friend a fierce hug. Tom’s face crimsoned.

“They’re not out of danger yet.” Roen dashed her rekindled hope as he dried his hands. He threw down the hemp sack and grabbed Silver’s halter. Flint gray eyes bored into Lenora’s as he yanked on the halter. “We have to get both of them up on their feet.”

“Wait, let her rest,” Lenora protested. “She’s drained from this.”

“We can’t. You know we need to do this.” Roen’s eyes flashed a gentle warning.

New tears formed, and she nodded. As she rose from her cramped position, a painful tingle coursed through her calves. She struggled to stand, but her legs caved in. Roen caught her easily.

“Damn.” His voice was a husky whisper. The tip of his tongue brushed against the outside curl of her ear. She shuddered.

Her body ached from fatigue but a yearning grew in her like a spring plant. And just as a new plant took nourishment from the sun and earth, the need inside of her desired nourishment, from Roen. Lenora leaned into the hard muscular torso next to her.

Roen felt Lenora’s body fit so easily against his own. His mouth grew dry. He fought to control the desire to throw her down on the straw and ravish her. “Lenora.” He pried her from his body with gentle fingers. The absence of her body next to his caused an ache of emptiness in his chest. “We have to get the horses up. I need you to help. Talk to her, yell at her, whatever it takes.”

Lenora stiffened, shame washed over her. How could she so easily forget Silver and the foal? Wiping her tears away, she sniffed and grabbed the halter next to Roen’s hand. “Tom, you help the colt.” Lenora took a deep breath and began to urge Silver up from the dirty hay. She started in a sing-song voice. “Come on, girl. Time to get up. I know you’re tired, love.” The only movement the mare made was to close her eyes. Panic flourished in Lenora’s heart.

“Grab her tail.” Lenora gripped the halter with two hands and planted her feet firmly on the slippery stall floor. “Now!” she commanded. Roen pulled on Silver’s tail while Lenora screamed and tugged at her head. “Get up, you old lazy thing. Up, I say.” She kicked the horse hard under the breastbone. The mare’s eyes shot open. Lenora and Roen continued to pull and tug until Silver staggered to her feet.

The mare swayed to and fro while Lenora and Roen leaned against the animal to steady her. They watched the tenacious colt take dainty steps toward them. He paused to view the two strange beings near his mother. After a long perusal, the colt’s
hunger overcame the fear and he began to noisily slurp nourishment. Tom raked up the old bedding and replaced it quickly with clean, fresh-smelling straw. As the mare steadied, Roen brought clean water and feed to the groggy horse.

Lenora shoulders ached, and her arms felt like leaden weights. The scratch on her leg stung and her head pounded with every step she took. The colt stepped on her toe as he maneuvered for a better angle to nurse. She gave the greedy newborn a tired smile.

“Nora, you need to sit down.” Roen led her away from Silver. She was so tired she didn’t have the energy to correct Galliard’s pronunciation of her name. He guided her to a small bench outside the stall. Lenora sat and rested her head against the wall. Her eyes wouldn’t stay open. In a dreamlike state, she concentrated on hearing the conversation between Roen and Tom.

“Ye think they’ll pull through?” Tom queried.

“There could be complications. With a little good luck, there is an excellent chance both will be fine,” Roen answered.

The words penetrated her sleep-draped reasoning and Lenora bolted awake. There had been too much bad luck at Woodshadow of late to leave anything to chance.

“You’re right, Galliard. Silver is not out of danger yet. There could still be trouble. Tom, do you have any blankets here?”

The two men eyed her in surprise. “There’s some horse blankets in the tack room but they got moth holes in ‘em as big as your fist,” Tom answered slowly, not yielding the information easily.

“That will do. Pray, fetch them for me.”

“Why?” Roen asked the question with lethal calmness. Tom limped off, determined to avoid the confrontation between two hot tempers.

Relying on her lance of determination, Lenora met the knight’s gaze. Galliard was not her master, yet. Until that time he had no right to impose sanctions against her movements. Still, she hesitated before speaking, knowing the tempest that her words would bring.

“Y
ou will do no such thing. You will return to your room now.” Roen’s voice boomed through the murky stable.

“Keep your voice down,” Lenora hissed. “You’ll disturb Silver and the colt.” She wagged her finger at Roen’s chest. “You don’t own me, Galliard. I do what I want in my own keep.” Catching sight of Tom, she instructed the stableman to drop the blankets near the pile of hay.

“Take the blankets away.” Roen issued a countercommand. “Lady Lenora shan’t be in need of them.”

In reply, she lifted the heavy blankets from Tom’s arms and began to spread them out on a pallet of hay near the mare’s stall.

“What’s goin’ on ‘ere?” Tom asked.

“Your
lady—”
Roen stressed the last word “—intends to spend the night in the stables like a common tavern wench.” He stepped on the edge of the blanket Lenora knelt on. “She plans to rest out here, alone, in case the mare needs her in the night. Would that she attended her duties to the castle as intently as she does this flea-bitten animal.”

“Would that you had a heart instead of stone in your chest. Silver was my mother’s favorite mount. To me, the horse is more than an animal, she is a living remembrance of my mother’s love. To touch her is to touch that love. Can you not remember the love of your own mother and understand my concern?”

His eyes turned cold, the color of a wind-buffeted hill devoid of life. His full mouth twisted into a scornful snarl, an animallike growl rumbled low in his throat. “My mother’s
love? I do not waste my time on such maudlin frivolities. ‘Twas not love I learned at my mother’s knee. Though I will admit the lessons she taught me have served me better than that foolish sentiment.”

Silence echoed in the velvety blackness of the stable. The glow of the candle illuminated the anguish on Roen’s face. Lenora felt that to understand his pain would take more light than a thousand candles could give. “I know not the story behind your words, Galliard. But I know mine. I have known that love and will protect the ‘foolish sentiment.’ I will rest here this night, and every night, until I am sure Silver is out of danger.” She refused to allow Roen to intimidate her.

The loose boards shook from the shout he threw at her. “Woman, why do you refuse everything I tell you to do? Your mother should have taught you duty instead of babble. Tom can spend the night here. If the mare is in distress, he can help her.”

The dry tinder of her temper sparked to a flame. “What my mother taught me is no concern of yours, Galliard, now or ever.” She unfolded a blanket with a loud crack. Silver neighed in the stall and Lenora brought her voice to a controlled calm. “Tom’s leg will give him trouble for sure if he sleeps on the cold ground. ‘Tis inconsiderate of you to even suggest such a thing. Besides, he alone could not handle her. He would still need help.”

Roen fumed. He conceded her point but he wasn’t finished yet. “The man will find help.”

Lenora paused while she positioned the harsh woolen blanket on top of the others. She met his eyes with her own warm sienna-colored ones. “Silver knows no other hand, before tonight, save my mother’s, Tom’s and mine. She allowed your hands on her because of our presence and her pain. In the night, with a new colt, the mare would stomp a stranger to the ground should they enter the stall.”

Determined not to be swayed from her decision, Lenora fluffed hay in between the layers of blankets. “Tom, are there not a few more covers to be found? I fear ‘twill be a cool night.” She prayed Galliard would not pursue the issue further. The ache in her shoulders intensified, her jittery nerves were barely controllable.

“Aye, there might be a blanket or two tucked in the loft.” Tom rose slowly; the night’s exertions weighed on him. As he turned, his damaged foot dragged the ground.

“Sit, I can get them. You stay here and watch the horses.” Lenora steered Tom toward the bench, seizing the opportunity to escape Roen’s dark scowl.

When Roen heard Lenora’s steps creak on the loft above, he plopped one foot on the bench and leaned an elbow against his bent knee. His voice seethed as he asked, “Why do you go against me, old man? You know as well as I her life is perilous at best. She cannot spend the night out here alone.”

Tom scratched his sparse beard. “’Cause I’m a-thinkin’ there just might be a need for a-watchin’ those two horses.”

“The fact that someone is here in the barn is not going to save those horses,” he blurted out impatiently.

Limping toward a neglected blanket and some wooden bowls beneath the stairs, Tom shrugged his shoulders. “It might not, then agin it might.” The faithful servant motioned to the nest beneath the stairs. “Lady Lenora’s dog kenneled ‘ere. He’s been a-missin’ for a time now. Don’t figure to ever see old Gladymer agin.”

“What’s your point, old man?” Roen demanded,

“Well, I’ll tell ya. Lady Lenora knew Silver might not live if’n she took with a foal. I watched that girl come every night and lock that gate. Yet that mare escaped her stall. Escaped, mind ya, not busted, ‘cause that lock weren’t broken. The morning we find Silver out in the pasture, that’s the morning Gladymer comes up missin’.”

Roen did not miss Tom’s innuendo. “What purpose would be served by killing a dog and horse?”

Tom shook his head in dismay. “I got one eye and can see better than anyone in this room. To drive Lady Lenora away. That girl don’t take to pretty baubles and things. She takes few things into her heart, but the ones she does are there for life. She holds her family and friends dear. There’s not anything she wouldn’t do for ‘em. If she lost that horse, her dog, her brother and her father, there ain’t no reason for her to want this here keep, ye see. Chances are, she’d up and leave and go back across the Channel to the queen. She’d give up control of Woodshadow and live on a trust her father set up fer her.”

Roen’s mind analyzed the information. “If you’re right, then the traitor is someone who knows Lenora well. Someone with access to the stables. The scoundrel must be one of Sir Edmund’s own men. The question remains, who has bought the man’s loyalty?” Lenora’s steps could be heard moving toward the stairs. “We must convince her not to stay here. ‘Tis a risk. If someone tries to get at the horses, Lenora could be harmed.”

“When that girl gets an idea stuck in her head, there ain’t no way to yank it out that I knows of.” Tom shrugged his shoulders. “And she ain’t too mindful where you’re concerned. Both of ye got a temper so hot it would heat the entire castle for a winter and a stubborn streak that’d task the holiest saint.” He stroked the stubble of his gray-and-black beard. “Sorry, Sir Galliard, you’re on your own ‘ere.”

“On your own for what?” Lenora quirked an eyebrow as she addressed them. She held several threadbare blankets in her arms. Roen could see that, though she tried to hide it, the night had taken its toll. Dark smudges underscored the tiredness of her face. She swayed ever so slightly, fighting to remain upright. ‘Twas only her stubbornness that kept her on her feet. She’d fall asleep as soon as she lay down. Asleep, and defenseless.

“On my own, on my walk back to my room,” Roen answered.
A woman who does what she’s told is truly worth a king’s ransom,
he thought to himself while he noted Tom’s and Lenora’s shocked looks. “I’ll send down a boy with food to break your morning fast.” Roen exited the barn and headed for the dark shadow of the oak tree.

Tom struggled to catch up. The older man’s leg dragged more than usual. “By all the saints above, are ye crazed? Did ye not hear a word I said? I’m tellin’ ye there’s a worry here,” Tom lectured when they were out of earshot.

“Hush, old man. I heard you. Did you not tell me that there was no changing Nora’s mind once ‘twas set? Wait a few minutes, she’ll be sound asleep. When she is, I’ll return and stand sentry. I’ll be gone before she wakes.”

“Aye, sounds good. But what are ye goin’ to do about the next night?”

Roen rested himself against the rough bark of the ancient oak. Stars shone overhead, brilliant light in a clear, blue-black
sky. A beam of moonlight basked the quiet keep in a soft yellow glow. “I’ve tomorrow to think on that. Let’s concentrate on this night, shall we?”

Lenora checked one last time on the horses. The colt lay on its side. Frothy bubbles of milk laced the fine whiskers around its mouth. The foal’s nose quivered as it slept. Lenora turned to Silver. The mare’s crazed look had been replaced with one of infinite tiredness. The horse’s head hung low, her eyes closed, her breathing even. Lenora prayed that rest, extra love and care would restore Silver’s health.

“I wish that my life could be restored so easily,” Lenora whispered out loud. So many responsibilities fell on her shoulders of late. A deep sense of loneliness permeated the stable and infected her.

There was no one to whom she could speak of her confusion and fear. Her brother and father had always been enough for her, her protectors, friends and confidants. Wistfully, Lenora dreamed of a person with whom she could unburden herself. Someone who would help her take the reins of her life in hand and give her guidance. She returned to the straw mattress and pulled the old blankets tightly around her.

Her thoughts turned to Galliard. He was a selfish, stubborn lout driven by greed, yet he had saved something she held very precious. It galled her to owe him a boon. A long yawn escaped her. Lenora snuggled down in the blankets as the night air began to cool steadily. “Tomorrow. I’ll settle all this tomorrow.” She yawned, her eyelids drooped, and she surrendered to her body’s call for sleep.

Roen rested on his heels and fixed his gaze on the sleeping woman. Moonlight filtered through a window and displayed her sinfully long lashes against pale skin. Her auburn hair covered part of her face. With a gesture as soft as a whisper, he wrapped the locks around his hand. Lenora’s wayward curl encircled his finger like a caress. He brushed the tips of his knuckles across the plane of her cheek. The coldness startled him. He reached for her hand, nestled beneath her chin. The tips of her fingers were icy. Lenora snuggled deeper into the worn blankets, curling up into a fetal position to stay warm.

“Little fool, I should let you freeze,” Roen muttered. He paused and contemplated his options: wake Lenora and face an argument, or find some way to warm her. The invitation proved too tempting. He unbuckled his sword, leaned it against the loose pile of hay and slipped under the covers.

The warmth of his body acted as a magnet. Lenora rolled herself toward his inviting heat. She wiggled against the hard length of his body and he groaned under his breath. Regretting his decision, he battled his primal urges. He had known lust and controlled it before. With Lenora, he challenged an emotion much more powerful and, for him, much more dangerous. It took a mustering of all of his notorious iron will to keep his hands from roaming the soft mounds pressed against his chest.

The battle shifted unexpectedly. An attack came from a surprising source—Lenora. She nestled the tip of her cold nose under his chin and slipped her arm around his chest. He could feel the warm, rhythmic caress of her breath on his neck. Hot, impatient urges taunted him to explore the riches of her body. Roen’s eyes closed as his hand cupped one breast and his fingers gently kneaded its softness.

The leather laces, untied from Lenora’s tossing, worked to loosen the binding overtunic. With delight, he discovered his fingers could fit through the laces and touch the soft delicate skin of her velvet-soft mound. His fingers leapt forward, eager to explore. Lenora stiffened in her sleep and he heard a breathy gasp.

With painstaking slowness, Roen moved his anxious fingers toward his prize. He allowed Lenora’s sleep-drugged mind to grow familiar with his touch. Her breath became more regular, but more rapid. Gooseflesh rose on the sensitive breast. Roen moved to claim his goal; the stiff peak of her bosom vanquished all his willpower.

“Nora.” He buried his lips in her hair. The scent of hay and clover filled his nostrils. Lenora moaned in her sleep and he silenced her with his lips. A ravenous hunger drove at him to devour her with his mouth, but his kisses lit on Lenora’s lips like butterfly wings. Fluttery kisses that caused her to taste her lips tentatively with the tip of her tongue and sigh. Carnal lust and desire exploded in his loins.

Creak.
Roen halted. The protest of wood against wood sounded again. Suppressed footsteps echoed on the hay-covered wooden floor. Roen cloaked himself and Lenora with the blankets. Through a tear in the cover, he saw a black shadow shuffle past. Lenora, her body still awake from his lips and touches, squirmed against him. In an attempt to pacify her, Roen stroked back the hair near her temples.

The dark apparition moved with caution to the stall with Lenora’s horses. Roen watched as it paused outside the gate. Shadowy beams of moonlight reflected off a sword hilt. A jewel in the hilt gleamed with malice. No apparition but a man, a knight in a dark cloak. The intruder threw back one corner of his mantle. The moonlight revealed the cloak’s torn corner. Lightning hot outrage caused Roen to grit his teeth. Here was the man who had nearly killed Lenora at the scaffold.

Outraged, Roen reached for his sword, but his fingers closed on emptiness. Desperate to find his weapon yet not awaken Lenora, he inched his fingers through the layers of hay. He froze when he heard the dark shadow speak.

“Well, a foal. Silver, your mistress has a talent of undermining my plans.” The intruder’s voice rang out in the empty stable. Silver looked up but did not move. She sniffed the air, then lowered her head again to sleep.

The would-be assassin resumed his sermon. “Aye, but this night her work will be for naught. Drink well, ‘twill be your last.” The stranger sprinkled a powder into the water bucket in the stall and over the grain.

Lenora grew restless beside Roen. “Geoffrey,” she moaned softly. Roen cursed both her timing and the name of her dream lover. The hooded man stilled. Roen placed his fingers gently over her lips and prayed the moon would stay behind the clouds.

The intruder took a few hesitant steps toward their hiding place, then waited and listened. To Roen, every breath he and Lenora took sounded like a loud wind in the silence of the dark stable. The need to attack ate at him, but he dampened the emotion. The safety of Lenora and her horses must be the priority.