Archangel (8 page)

“It seems like an eternity ago,” she murmured.

“Do you remember what he used to call you?” he asked softly.

She closed her eyes.  “Kitten.”

“Do you remember why?”

She smiled faintly. “Because I was never without a cat in my arms,” she said softly. “They would breed in the barn and I would collect armfuls of them to play with. I have not heard that name in years.”

He smiled as he focused on cleaning the blood off her ear. “It suits you. Do you still have cats?”

“Four.”

He snorted softly. “I should have guessed.”

She felt silent as he gently wiped at the dried blood, trying not to cause additional pain to her swollen ear.  He thought she had fallen asleep, losing herself in blissful unconsciousness to remove her from her pain, but after several moments she stirred again.

“Gart,” she whispered. “Will you do something for me?”

He stopped cleaning and looked at her. “Anything.”

“Please leave.  I do not want you here.”

He lost some of his confidence. “I only want to help. Please let me.”

She shook her head, closing her eyes. “Just… let me be.”

“Why?”

Tears began to pour out of her closed eyes. “Because,” she breathed. “If Julian finds you here, he will kill us both. That is enough of a reason.”

Gart watched her struggle. “He will not kill you and he certainly will not kill me,” he insisted softly. “I can adequately defend us both from your husband.”

Her eyes opened and she looked at him. “Why?” she asked, almost angrily. “Gart, he is my husband. It is his right to do with me as he pleases and even though I appreciate your noble intentions, the fact remains that you have stirred up a good deal of trouble and I have suffered for it.  You will leave here in a few days and I will be left with the consequences of your actions.  You can easily leave the situation; I cannot. I must stay and bear Julian’s wrath.”

He stared at her, hurt and confused by his words. His chest began to constrict, knowing she was correct but still somehow trying to rationalize it.  He set the bowl and rag to the floor and stood up, deeply troubled.

“Do you remember when you were about twelve years of age, you returned from Chepstow in the summertime,” he murmured, crossing his enormous arms. “Erik and I were about twenty and one years old, newly knighted and very full of ourselves. We believed we were the greatest knights to have ever lived. Do recall that summer?”

Emberley nodded faintly. “I do. It was the last time I saw you.”

“Do you also remember that you and your silly friends went to swim at the lake one warm August day; what were their names? You know who I mean; the St. George girls.”

In spite of herself, Emberley warmed to the remembrance. “Sorsha and Caroline.”

He made a face. “Sorsha and Caroline,” he muttered with exaggerated distaste. “Caroline wanted to marry me. That is all she would speak of. She followed me around so much that I had to hide to avoid her. One time, I was running from her and tripped into the well. Erik had to fish me out.”

Emberley couldn’t help but laugh, remembering that particularly humorous event. “You cannot fault the girl for her good taste.”

He gave her a half-grin, pleased to see that his story telling was working the desired effect; he had her interest and she was smiling. “If you want to know the truth,” he said, pretending it was a great secret, “I would have much rather have had you.”

The light of surprise came to Emberley’s eyes. “Me?”

He nodded. “You were the prettiest girl in Shropshire.”

She was flattered, bringing a flush to her pale cheeks. “You never told me. You never said a word about it.”

“I was an idiot. Besides, Erik would have run me through for lusting after his sister.”

She giggled softly. “Did you really lust after me?”

He winked at her. “Are you serious? How could I not?” When she continued to giggle, he continued with his story. “At any rate, you and your silly friends went to the lake to swim and you swam out too far.  Your legs became entangled in the underwater grass.”

Emberley’s smile faded. “I remember,” she murmured. “I would have drowned had it not been for you and Erik. You two jumped into the lake and risked your lives to cut me free. I remember that you in particular spent a good deal of time under the water cutting my legs free.  Once Erik brought me back to the shore, he had to practically drag you out of the water as well.  You nearly killed yourself trying to save me.”

Gart’s green eyes were intense. “As I would do the same thing today,” he said softly. “Never doubt for a moment that I would kill or die for you, my lady. I have been doing it since you were young. Therefore, your husband does not frighten me. Not in the least.  I would willingly go to the vault or worse if it meant you would be safe and whole.”

She sighed, understanding his point.  Having known the man most of her life, he had proven his selflessness time and time again.  As her brother had also been, Gart was a man of extremely good character and altruism, qualities that were very endearing.

“I understand and appreciate your chivalry,” she said quietly. “But this situation is different. I am married and….”

He cut her off. “And your husband is a fool,” he rumbled. “He does not deserve you, Emberley.  Has he been treating you this way since you married him?”

She averted her gaze from his probing eyes. “Aye,” she whispered. “We have been married for eight years. It has always been this way.”

Gart shook his head, turning his gaze to the lancet window and the blue sky beyond. He could smell the sea wafting in on the breeze, as Dunster sat right on the coast. Seagulls cried as they rode the drafts and he watched them a moment, his thoughts lost and tumultuous.  There was so much on his mind that it was difficult to isolate only one thought. But he did know one thing for certain.

“I am sorry,” he finally muttered.

She watched his handsome profile, her gaze moving over his big body, long torso, and very long legs.  “Why?”

“Because,” he muttered, turning to face her. “I should have married you and saved you from all of this.”

She smiled faintly. “You are being foolish,”

“Why?”

Her smile grew. “Must I answer that question?”

“If I want you to, you will.”

She shook her head at him as if she truly thought he was foolish. “In the first place, you had no interest in me and in the second place, you and my brother were full of dreams of big wars and big glory. A wife did not fit into those plans.  Moreover, it would have been as if I had married my own brother.  You and Eric were too close.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “Do you still feel that way?”

“What way?”

“That I am as your brother?”

Her smile faded. “Nay,” she whispered. “I see you now as a very dear, very old friend. It has done my heart a world of good to see you and I shall miss you when you go.”

“A few minutes ago, you were asking me to leave. Do you still want me to leave?”

She regarded him closely. After a moment, she weakly nodded her head. “Aye.”

“You do?”

“Aye.”

“Well, I am not going anywhere. I cannot leave you like this.”

“But I wish it.”

“I do not care. For once, I will not bow to your wishes.”

“Even at the cost of Julian killing me should he discover you here with me?”

Gart’s expression hardened and he made his way back over to the bed, going to his knees again and picking up the wet cloth. “He will not kill you,” he rumbled. “I will kill him first.”

Her beaten hand flew to his rough cheek and she forced him to look at her.   When their eyes met, her deep blue eyes were roiling with emotion. 

“Gart, you cannot,” she whispered firmly. “I will not let you do it. The penalty would be death and I could not live with that. I have already lost one brother; I could not lose you as well.”

Gart stared at her, feeling unfamiliar emotions swamp him.  True, he had known her the vast majority of his life but as he gazed at her, he was seeing an exceptionally beautiful and poised woman.

He felt himself warming to her as he had never warmed to anyone in his life.  Something magnetic and wonderful was brewing in his heart, warm and powerful emotions he felt every time he looked at her.  He had always known her on a youth level, as a boy to a girl. Now he was coming to know her as an adult, as a man to a woman.  It was completely different than what he had known in the past. He couldn’t explain it any other way.

Swiftly, he gripped her hand and kissed the palm that was on his cheek, twice, before setting her hand back down to her side.  In silence, he picked up the rag and resumed cleaning the blood off her face. 

He was afraid to say anything more to her as he cleaned her up, afraid that the odd, warm sensations filling his chest would cause him to say something he should not.  Emberley lay still, her eyes closed, as he wiped off as much dried blood as he could manage.  The left side of her scalp was still caked with blood but he didn’t want to disturb her too much by washing it out of her hair, so he just left it alone for the time being.  As he moved to her hands to inspect the wounds, the door to the chamber began to rattle.

Gart froze, eyes and ears alert, as the panel continued to clatter. Then, he could hear children’s voices from the opposite side and realized it was the boys calling to their mother.  Gart glanced at Emberley; she was dead asleep, exhausted from her injuries.  Setting the bloodied rag aside, he stood up and made his way to the door.

Leaning his ear against the panel, he could hear the boys discussing what they should do because the door was locked.  Silently, with great care, Gart unlocked the door and pressed himself back against the wall so that when the door opened, he would be concealed by the open panel. 

Predictably, the door flew open when the boys realized it was unlatched and it slammed back, bumping against Gart.  The three boys and one very little girl walked through, Orin holding on to his baby sister’s hand.  Gart eyed the little girl curiously from his position behind the door; he could see long, curly blond hair through the crack between the door and the wall but little else. But his master plan ultimately worked against him when the Romney turned around to shut the door behind him and caught sight of Gart. The boy’s mouth few open.

“What are you doing here?” he demanded loudly.

Gart slammed the door and bolted it, turning to look at the four young faces gazes back at him with various degrees of astonishment.  He considered Romney’s question, locking the door before returning his attention to the children.

“Your mother is hurt,” he said simply. “I was helping her.”

Romney eyed him with some suspicion, turning to look at his mother passed out on the bed. His brow furrowed with confusion. “Did Father let you come?” he asked.