A Knight to Desire (13 page)

The abbot nodded. He motioned for the others to follow him to the refectory where the evening meal was still being served, seating them at one of the long wooden tables. Many of the other monks in the chamber stared at Brianna. She kept her head high, refusing to let them see they had any sort of effect on her. It wasn't because she was a woman in a place where very few tread. It was because they remembered her and her deception.

Her thoughts were interrupted when moments later bowls of steaming mutton stew and a platter filled with chunks of dark bread and golden cheese were placed before them. Brother Kenneth said a prayer before he and the other men started eating. Sitting across from Simon at the table, Brianna could only stare into her wooden bowl as she allowed the familiarity of being back among the Templars to settle over her.

"Did Brother Bernard and the others make it back here?" Simon asked.

"Aye," the abbot replied. "Bernard lives. The healing baths helped with his deep wounds, but he remains weak."

"Praise the saints," Simon breathed.

The abbot's features darkened. "The other knights told us about de la Roche. He took the Grail and the sword of Charlemagne?"

"He's murdered so many of us. We must stop him." Kaden said, sliding onto the bench beside Simon.

"What about the rest of the treasure, is it safe?" the abbot asked.

"Simon managed to seal off the treasure before that monster could send his men back for more." Kaden sat forward, concern etched into his youthful face.

The abbot nodded and his gaze met Brianna's. "Is that why you brought Brianna back into this battle?"

"Aye," Simon replied. "Her visions must lead us to de la Roche before…" His words died off.

"I understand. But perhaps it is best to pray instead of demand Brianna's visions reveal the things we need," Brother Kenneth said with a lift of his brow.

His voice was gentle, understanding, and brought a lump of emotion to Brianna's throat. "I've been trying to dream, but sleep suddenly seems to elude me at every turn."

The abbot stood and slipped away from the bench on which he sat. "Perhaps I might be able to help." He moved to the far side of the refectory and returned with a mortar containing several dried herbs, and pestle. He ground the herbs together and reached for her untouched mug of ale. He sprinkled the powder from the mortar into the golden liquid. "My sleeping draught should aid you in finding sleep." He held the mug out to her.

"What are the herbs?" Brianna asked as she stared down into the dark liquid.

"Dried valerian, lavender, passion flower, chamomile flowers, and lettuce."

Hesitantly, Brianna brought the mug to her lips and took a sip of the bitter liquid. She shuddered.

"It tastes terrible, but it works, believe me." He laughed.

She nodded and downed the rest of the mug in a gulp. "Then let's hope it works soon." She set the mug on the table and drew a long, deep breath, fighting the bitter taste that lingered on her tongue.

"You should not be alone this night, however, in case the draught brings you nightmares instead of the dreams you seek."

"I'll happily sit with Brianna," Abigail said, setting her spoon alongside her bowl as she finished her portion of stew. "I've dealt with her nightmares—"

"Nay," Simon interrupted before he realized what he was saying. "Abigail you need your rest. We've all seen how weary this travel makes you. I can get by with much less sleep. I'll stay with her here in the refectory. We can build a pallet for her next to the fire. I will stand guard in a chair."

Abigail frowned. "That would not be proper."

"Nor is it necessary," Brianna interjected. How would she ever be able to sleep with Simon watching over her? Just the memory of him had kept her up last night, despite her exhaustion. His nearness would not serve her well at all.

Simon stood, facing the older woman. "We are in a monastery, Abigail. Her virtue is safe among my brothers and me." He turned to Brianna. "Are you frightened to be alone with me?"

Brianna narrowed her gaze as she straightened her spine. He knew her so well. He knew she could not argue the point now that he'd thrown out that challenge. She would not allow him to best her with a sword or with anything else. "If you must stand guard, then so be it."

The corner of his mouth quirked as though to smile, but he held himself in check as the others finished their supper then cleared from the room. Abigail was the last to leave.

"Are you certain you'll be all right … alone with him?" she asked, her voice laced with concern.

"I'll be well." Brianna smiled and drew her sword from its scabbard. "As long as I have this nearby, there is no need to worry."

Abigail's eyes widened and shifted to where Simon now stood near the hearth. "Perhaps I was worried about the wrong person."

Brianna laughed and returned her weapon to its sheath. "I promise not to harm him. All will be well." She took Abigail's arm and led her to the doorway where Brother Kenneth waited. "And I shall see you in the morning."

Abigail's soft gray eyes searched her face for a moment before she sighed. "May you rest well, and dream well, my child."

Once Abigail was gone, Brianna turned back into the chamber. No longer needing to pretend for Abigail's sake, Brianna's smile faltered and fatigue consumed her as the abbot's draught took hold. She wobbled on her feet, suddenly unsteady, and reached out.

Simon was there, holding her arm. "Steady, my warrior."

Brianna shook her head, trying to clear her senses. Had Simon said what she'd thought he'd said? The tables in the room suddenly swam before her eyes. Nay, 'twas only her mind playing tricks on her. "I'm suddenly quite tired," she said.

"Your pallet awaits you." Simon guided her across the chamber toward the fire. There, he turned her toward him. His hands moved to her waist.

She gasped as the warmth of his touch permeated her spiraling sense. She closed her eyes and leaned slightly forward. In an instant, his warmth was gone, along with her scabbard and sword.

She snapped her eyes open and swayed where she stood. "How dare you remove my sword?"

He was close enough that she could make out a rather fuzzy frown on his face. "Your weapon will only be in the way once you lie down." He took her in his arms once more and guided her down as though she were a rag doll, down to a soft woolen blanket atop a pallet of sweet-smelling heather. "Besides, you will harm yourself if you try to draw that weapon in your current state."

She allowed him to position her atop the bedding. He was right, but she still did not like the fact he'd made the decision for her. "Place the weapon by my side."

"I'll be at your side. You've no need of a weapon."

She lifted to her elbows and tried to focus on Simon's face. "With you at my side, I'll need every weapon available." She frowned as he knelt down beside her, bringing his face closer.

"Even under the effects of a draught, you are as prickly as ever."

"I am not prickly." A frown came to her lips as she closed her eyes. She had to stop looking at him and remembering how it felt when those lips were pressed against her own. Her heart was beating too fast. A hot flush crept up her cheeks. Nausea pinched her stomach and a slow, thudding started at the back of her skull. She wrenched her eyes open and stared at Simon as she struggled to sit up.

He stood away from her, near the fire. "Simon, I don't feel—" The word feel became thick and stuck in her throat.

She swallowed. At least she tried to swallow. Her throat was dry and her tongue felt thick. She tried again. "I don't feel well." Her hands started to shake. She stared at them with rising panic. A spark in the fire popped, sounding like an explosion. She clamped her shaking hands over her ears. What was wrong with her?

Simon turned toward her. He took a step that seemed slow and exaggerated, then another. Brianna's heart thundered in her chest as she watched Simon become a shifting, dancing kaleidoscope of shadows and movements that blurred together. Panic swelled inside her, swamped her, pulled her into a black whirling eddy.

Far away a voice called. "Brianna…" The word echoed through the long, dark tunnel of her mind. She reached out with flaying arms and captured something solid. She clung to it.

"
Steady now
… my warrior."

She concentrated on the words, clinging to them like a lifeline as the world around her continued to spin out of control.
Simon.

He took her in his arms. "Must be … the herbs." His voice sound far away and strained.

She clung to him as a huge beast charged forward, bearing a dark-skinned Moor. The thunder of hoofbeats filled the space around her. A hooked sword flashed high in the air. A scream lodged in her throat as she reached for her sword. Where was her sword? Simon had taken it away. The sword came down and the scream forced itself past her lips, echoing all around her, resounding in her ears like thunder.

"It's all right, Brianna. You're hallucinating." Simon's words filtered through her thick mind.

Aye. This wasn't real. She grasped the word as she would her weapon. "You're not real!" She challenged the Moor.

He vanished, leaving in his stead an empty chair.

She turned her face into Simon's chest. She didn't know how long she remained there with him, wrapped in his arms, her face buried in the soft linen of his shirt. But it seemed like forever.

Gradually, her headache eased and silence descended over the chamber. Her heartbeat slowed and her tongue moved with ease as she swallowed against the dryness that had settled in her throat. Her shaking eased.

"Brianna?"

She looked up into Simon's comforting gaze and felt an overwhelming sense of relief. Her body relaxed as true exhaustion took hold. "Hold me, Simon. Please, just hold me as I sleep."

He framed her face with his hands, tilting her gaze toward him. "I will be right here, Brianna."

He was so close. Close enough to kiss. She shifted forward, bringing her lips in contact with his. He kissed her quickly, then pulled back. "Kiss me, Simon, like you did last night."

His lips brushed hers, hesitating. "I promised to keep you safe."

"I am safe with you."

His arms closed around her and a groan escaped him. His lips caressed hers in a hundred kisses that robbed her of breath and sent shivers tingling through her.

She inhaled sharply as she pulled back to stare into his face. His features were taut with strain. She blinked up into his eyes and saw something she hadn't seen there in years. Hope.

Her tongue came out to moisten her lips. She tried to speak. She had to tell him she felt it, too — a surge of something light and wonderful and pure. Her breath came out in a rush as her body felt suddenly heavy and weak. "So … tired," she whispered.

She heard a low sound as Simon laid her back on the pallet and shifted beside her, watching her face. "You should sleep and dream. The abbot's potion seems to have passed."

"Stay … with … me."

"I'm not going anywhere," he whispered near her ear.

Brianna tried to focus on Simon's face, but her vision blurred; her thoughts scattered as her eyes drifted closed.

Had it only been a dream? Had Simon's lips upon her own been something she'd only imagined, as much a fantasy as her hallucinations had been?

That was it. That had to be it. Why else would she give herself over so easily to the man who had taken everything she wanted away from her?