“Wine is better than the odor of fish I’ve been smelling all day.”
She wrinkled her nose. “You seem to have acquired it,” she said as she opened the door.
When she returned he was sitting in the small tub, frowning with annoyance. “Let’s get this over,” he said impatiently. “I’m stiff. I’m cold. And I have grave doubts of ever getting out of this tub. I think I’m stuck.”
“We can always chop the wood away from around you.” She motioned to the two soldiers following her, bearing steaming buckets of water.
Four buckets of hot water and a quarter hour later Gage leaned back in the tub with a sigh of contentment.
“Warmer?” Brynn soaped his broad back and then rinsed him.
“Yes. I was beginning to doubt if it would ever happen. By God, that wind was cold.”
“You should be accustomed to cold. Isn’t Norway a cold land?”
“Yes, but it’s been a long time since I was in Norway. Byzantium is warm and Normandy’s climate is not unpleasant. I wonder that Hevald decided to venture this far north when he was seeking his land of peace.”
“Gwynthal isn’t this chill. I told you, the interior of the island is sheltered by high cliffs.” She rose to her feet. “I think you’re as clean as I can get you in that little tub. Stand up and I’ll dry you.”
He groaned as he struggled to his feet and then stepped out of the tub. “Almost.”
“Almost what?” she asked absently as she toweled him dry.
“You almost had to call LeFont with the hatchet.”
“Well, it didn’t happen.” She draped the huge cloth about him. “And I was lucky to find a tub even this big. It’s entirely your fault for growing so large.”
“It’s a family curse. Hardraada was over seven feet tall.”
“Truly?” She had never seen a man of that size.
“Truly.”
She shook her head. “Astonishing. Sit down on the hearth while I have the tub removed and then I’ll give you some stew.”
He settled on the hearth and leaned back against the stones. “May I ask why you’re being so kind to me?”
“Because I’m rested and warm and you are not.”
“You’ve never felt the need to equalize before.”
“You make it very difficult to be kind to you. You always reach out to take before anyone has a chance to give.” The wind whistled into the cottage as she opened the door and called for the soldiers. “Keep that towel about you.”
She was frowning when she came back after the tub had been removed. “Malik is actually sitting on Adwen’s doorstep.”
“I know. I ran into him on my way here and he told me that was his intention.”
“What foolishness. It’s ice cold out there. Perhaps Adwen is right and I should tell him to go to shelter.”
“Leave them alone. Malik wouldn’t thank you for your interference.”
He was probably right, Brynn thought. Malik usually knew what he was doing.
“My supper,” Gage prompted her.
She crossed to the pot of stew bubbling over the flames. “Did you get the boats?”
“Only four.” He took the wooden bowl and spoon she handed him. “And they’re quite small. None of them will hold more than eight. That means we’ll have to leave most of LeFont’s men and all the horses here.”
“You won’t need an overlarge force on Gwynthal.”
“I hope not.” He finished the bowl of stew before he said, “But nothing stays the same. Gwynthal may not be the peaceful haven you remember.”
“It will be the same,” she said quickly. “Gwynthal never changes. More stew?”
“No.” He put his bowl on the hearth. “I have something to tell you.”
She stiffened warily. “What?”
He threw aside the towel and rose to his feet. “Perhaps I should say I have something to show you.” He crossed naked to his clothing piled on the chair and retrieved his leather pouch. “It seems we’re not the first strangers to come here this autumn. A week ago they were visited by a young nobleman, fair of hair and comely of face.”
“Richard?”
“He didn’t give them his name.” He opened the pouch. “But he wanted to go to an island north of here. He bought a boat from them together with the services of a young man to help sail it. He paid with this.”
She looked down at the small ruby in his palm.
“Is it yours?” he asked.
“Yes. Delmas must have given it to Richard.”
“I thought as much.” He gave the ruby to her. “The young man, Walter, gave it to his father to keep for him when he left the village. It seems he had the good sense not to trust anything so valuable on his person while accompanying Richard.”
The jewel felt cool and alien against the flesh of her palm. She had worn it all the years of her childhood, but now it seemed as if it didn’t belong to her. Any fondness she had felt for it had been tainted by Delmas’s greed and Richard’s malice. “This Walter might have led Richard to Gwynthal, but he wouldn’t have been able to find a place to dock. It was folly for him to even try.”
“If Richard did succeed, then we may be met with an unpleasant surprise when we arrive.”
“He couldn’t find a way,” she said positively. She went to her leather pouch in a corner of the room and placed the ruby inside. She doubted if she would ever wear it again. “Gwynthal is safe from him.” In spite of her assurances, Richard’s appearance on the horizon filled her with unease. He had not been following, he had been ahead of them. It was disconcerting that he was doing the unexpected.
She gathered the blankets in the corner and brought them to the hearth. “These are our own. I aired them earlier this afternoon. The ones on the bed were dirty and I didn’t trust them to be insect free.” She spread out the blankets. “Do we leave tomorrow?”
“Yes, at first light.”
“Then lie down and go to sleep.” She took off her gown and settled down. “Why are you standing there? You know you’re exhausted.”
“Yes,” He lay down on his blanket and rolled away from her. “Good night.”
She stared at him in astonishment. There was no mistaking the pointed rejection. She curled into a ball, careful not to touch him. “Good night.”
There was a silence in the room broken only by the hiss of the burning logs.
“Why?” he asked quietly.
It was what she wanted to ask him regarding his withdrawal from her.
“Why have you been kind to me tonight?” he asked.
“Why were you kind to me in Kythe?” “Then it’s gratitude?”
“Yes. No. Why must you ask for reasons? You were in need and I wanted to give to you.” She paused and then said haltingly, “Why are you not holding me? Are you too weary?”
“I’ve never seen you the way you were at Kythe. I thought to give you time.”
Kindness again. “When you hold me … I find it pleasant. I feel very much alone and a little frightened. If it would not be too much trouble …”
His arms were around her, heavy, warm, shielding. “It’s no trouble,” he said thickly.
She buried her face in his chest. “Thank you.” The thatch of hair on his chest smelled vaguely of soap and the herbs she had tossed into the water. “I don’t wish to disturb you.”
“Then your wish is in vain. You always disturb me.” His arms tightened around her. “Go to sleep. You’ll need your rest. It will be an unpleasant voyage on that cold sea tomorrow.”
“Yes …” Her arms tightened around him. She wanted to talk to him, draw closer to him, but she knew she must lie very still and let him go to sleep. Gage had not had any rest that day, but had suffered the cold and wind for her sake. “We’ll both go to sleep.…”
She was drowsily aware of the crash of the surf against the rock-strewn shore and the wind’s mournful howl. The sounds of desolation only intensified the pleasure of lying before a bright, warm fire, being held clo
se in Gage’s arms.
Malik was forced to hold on to his cape with both hands to keep the bitter wind from tearing it from his body.
“The fool is huddled there on the doorstep like a huge sack of barley,” Adwen said in exasperation, peering out the window. “Tell him to go away, Alice.”
“Tell him yourself. It’s between the two of you.” Alice yawned as she moved toward her pallet on the far side of the room. “I’m going to sleep. This baby and I both need our rest,”
Alice had been Adwen’s last hope of avoiding becoming involved in Malik’s latest madness. Both Brynn and Alice had stepped aside and left it in her hands. Well, she would not tell him, Adwen decided. Even if she bothered to try to sweep the idiot off her doorstep, she knew he would not go. She had realized the moment he had told her of his intention that there was more underlying it than the obvious. He was a man who believed in symbols, and if she allowed him to cross her doorstep …
He could stay out there all night. She had no desire to have another man in her life when she had not yet rid herself of the first. She now had a freedom and contentment she had never known before. Why would she want a jester who did not take anything seriously?
The wind whipped again and Malik seemed to grow smaller as he contracted to brace against its power. He buried his face in his cloak.
She had been outside only a short time that afternoon. She had been fervently grateful to get back inside the cottage. The weather had been miserable then, and it was much colder now.
We do not have these hideous north winds where I was born.
Well, let him go back to his Byzantium. He should not be among strangers anyway. Except for Gage Dumont, she had sensed he was very much alone. Why had he come to this country where he was regarded as an ignorant heathen? She herself had thought Saracens were ignorant until she had met Malik. Though she would never have admitted it to him, his wit and vast knowledge on all subjects had stunned her. She had found it was she who was ignorant. Since she had rarely been able to leave her sickroom during the years of her marriage, in desperation she had called upon the priest to educate her far beyond a woman’s usual lot. To her great annoyance, Malik told her much of what she had learned was wrong and patiently corrected her at every turn.
Thunder.
Was it starting to rain? No, that was only the pounding surf, she realized in relief Not that it would have made any difference. She would let him drown before she invited him to cross her threshold.
It was rain. Big drops falling on the doorstep, being driven like spikes against Malik’s shivering body.
“Mother of God!” She took three steps and jerked open the door. “Get in here!”
Malik scrambled to his feet. “I thought you would never ask.” He smiled happily. “I was sure I would have to stay out here until I took root. Though how anything could take root and flourish in this inhospitable weather I have no idea. It would be—”
“Be silent.” She grasped his arm, pulled him into the cottage, and shut the door. “Alice is trying to sleep.” She dragged him over to the fireplace. “I would not have given in, you know. It was the rain.”
He nodded. “I should have expected the rain. When the cause is just, God always perseveres.” He held out his hands to the blaze and sighed contentedly. “And provides.”
She scowled at him. “Have you eaten?”
“Oh, yes, I knew I must fortify myself for the battle.” He sat down on the hearth and gracefully crossed his legs. He was always graceful, every movement full of lithe strength and vitality. “Proceed.”
“I’m not going to do battle with you. As soon as you’ve warmed yourself, you will leave.”
“It will take a long time to warm myself. You left me for an eternity out in that raging wind.”
“I had nothing to do with it.”
“You know that is not true. I was out there suffering for your sake.”
“Because I made a casual remark? I did but tease you and you did this foolish thing.”
“It was not foolish.” He gazed into the fire. “I have no respect for William’s glorious knights, but they do have a custom that I do approve. When jousting in tournament they carry their lady’s favor and dedicate their battle to her.”
“What has that to do with anything?”
“My battle was with the wind and cold. I dedicate it to you.” He turned and looked into her eyes. “Will you give me your favor?”
She felt a melting deep within her. How beautiful he was in the firelight. Beautiful and more. So much more. “I am still wed.”
“That does not stop the ladies of William’s court.” He nodded ruefully. “But I understand it would seriously hinder you. Do not worry, I am a patient man and I believe that situation will soon be resolved.”
She could not stop looking at him. Honor and kindness. Humor and passion. All waiting behind that beautiful mask of which she was so afraid.
“What else?” he asked. “Give me another wall to scale, Adwen.”
“This is foolish,” she said huskily. “I’m not a prize to be won. Take your sweet words and handsome face to a woman who will—”
“Ah, there it is,” he interrupted. “Perhaps the steepest wall of all. You hate my face.”
“I don’t hate your face.”
“I think you do. If it displeases you, then we must do something about it.” He leaned forward, gingerly took a half-burned twig from the hearth, and lit it from the flames. “It is not the face itself but the comeliness, and that should be easy to fix. A burn on the cheek, perhaps one over the eyebrow …”
“What are you doing?” She watched in horror as he brought the flame close to his cheek.
“Scaling the battlements.” He smiled as he touched the flame to his bearded cheek. “It’s a difficult—”
“Fool!” She knocked the twig from his hand. “Madman! You would have actually done it.”
“With great reluctance. I detest pain.” He raised his brows. “It would be easier for me if you’d do it yourself.”
“Me? You wish me to burn you?”
“I told you. My face offends you, therefore we must rid ourselves of the problem.”
He would do it. Just as he had sat four hours out in that freezing cold. “You fool. You idiot. You—” Tears were running down her cheeks. “Don’t you dare—Promise me you won’t—”
“Shh … I take it you do not hate it that much?”
“Promise me.”
His hand reached out and touched the path of her tears. “If you promise to look beyond the face to the man.”
She nodded jerkily.
He gave a sigh of relief. “Ah, another wall scaled without a wound.”
She couldn’t say the same. She was not sure whether she had suffered a hurt or if an old wound had been opened to release its poison. All she knew was that she felt shaken and vulnerable as never before in her life. She had to retreat, to put up defenses. She wiped her cheeks on the backs of her hands and forced her tone to tartness. “You’ve not come out unscathed. Your beard is singed.”
“I will shave it off tomorrow.” He suddenly frowned. “But that may not be a good thing.”
“Why not?”
“I have a confession to make.”
“What?”
His eyes lit with mischief. “Without my beard I’m twice as handsome. A virtual Adonis. Men are so jealous, they wish to do battle, and women swoon as I pass. The sun has been known to hide behind a cloud because of the radiance of my—”
“I cannot bear this,” Adwen said, groaning.
“But you are laughing. That is good.”
Her laughter faded. “I don’t want to be a wife again. I did not find it pleasant.”
“How could you have, wed to that foul vermin? I will have to strive to convince you it is not always so.” He reached out and took her hand. “I will bring you joy, Adwen.”
She could almost believe him. His touch was igniting waves of strange feeling throughout her b
ody that filled her with uneasiness. The barriers must be built higher. She jerked her hand away. “Alice told me that the soldiers tell tales of the joy you bring to all women. I would not be one of many.”
“You would not be one—” He stopped, searching for words. “I will not tell you that I sampled these women because I was in search of the perfect woman. It would not be fair to them when they brought me great joy. I like women. I find them glorious in body and far stronger and close to the divine than most of us poor males.” He held up his hand when Adwen opened her lips to speak. “But, when I saw you, I knew that you were the woman who would complete me. What we will be together will be without equal.” He held out his hand to her again. “And it will break my heart if you will not give me your favor, Adwen.”
She could not take his hand. If she did, she would yield all she had fought for this night.
She must not take his hand. She would not give up her freedom.
She took his hand, “This means nothing,” she whispered. “I will not lie with you, I make no promises.”
His hand tightened around her own. “I do not ask either. We will just sit before the fire and hold hands and enjoy being part of each other. You will flow into me and I will flow into you. You will see how sweet it can be.”
Closeness. Sweetness. A singing in the soul. A merging without merging.
“You see?” Malik asked.
“I have a question to ask,” she said dreamily.
“Anything.”
“Are you really twice as handsome without your beard?”
“No, I lied.” He paused. “I’m four times more comely. That’s why I grew the beard. I could not bear to cause such envy among—”
“Be silent.” She was laughing again. “You’re probably as ugly as sin. I’ve no doubt that beard masks a weak chin and your vanity is …” She trailed off as she realized in how many ways he had moved her this night. Humor and tears and this precious closeness she had never known.
It had been a mistake to let him in. Now there might be no turning back.
She closed her eyes and repeated desperately, “I make no promises.”
But she could not bring herself to release his hand.