Conquering the Dark Axe (16 page)

He walked away from the fallen and exhausted body of
the last soldier looking for another to take his place. When Rourke spotted the
field empty, he turned his dark accusing gaze on Goran.

His longtime friend shrugged, threw up his hands and
said, “Pushing your men to the limits is not the answer.” Rourke took a step in
his direction and Goran continued, hurriedly, “Time has come for telling. Were
you to try and talk to your wife, perhaps –“

His words were cut off when Rourke’s short blade
whizzed past his head and embedded itself in one of the wooden quintain’s just
to the left of him. 

“Do not speak her name.”  Rourke was upon him
in a few strides.

Goran did not back down. “This aggression muddles
your thoughts.” He said and ducked a near blow connecting with his face. Like a
raging bull, Rourke stalked him. “I will not be your sparring partner nor will
any of the men when you are in a mood like this. I must save you from yourself.”

Rourke’s rich laughter filled the yard with a puff
of cold air. “Save me from myself? Whose thoughts are muddled? Come here and
let this be the telling you speak of.” He shook his large balled fist at his
friend and added with a crooked smile. “That is an order.”

Goran dared not laugh, but he took another step back
all the same. “Nay,” he replied and suggested instead, “If you would but think
a moment on it. Wooing is a place to start, then…”

Rourke’s roar had Goran turn and run. He was as tall
as Rourke, but lighter and what Rourke possessed in strength, Goran possessed
in speed and always had. His long legs had a head start and by the time Rourke
caught the back of his tunic, his lord was good and winded.

Rourke turned Goran around with a jerk. They stared
at one another a long moment. Then Rourke dropped him and stepped away with a
grunt. He fisted his hands in the small of his back as he tried to calm his
ragged breath.

“Only you, Goran. Only you- test me.”

Both men shared a hearty laugh.  Rourke sucked
in a breath and raked both hand through his golden tangled hair.

Goran scoffed, not at all winded and said, “That’s
cause only I dare.”

“True. Still, I will never woo a Saxon wench.”
Rourke said, the laughter gone from his tone. 

“I think you need think on this wooing, Rourke.
Truly.”

Rourke’s raised brow was a warning. Goran shrugged
and his gaze was caught by a rider coming over the rise. Rourke’s eyes
followed. 

‘Twas just a sentry he’d sent out earlier on
patrols. Rourke gave Goran a stern look before expelling a calming
breath.  “Come. Join me for a drink of wine and mayhap we can discuss this
wooing business.”

Goran said nothing, but a smile tilted the corner of
his lips as he walked beside his lord back to the manor.

Rourke’s thoughts returned to his wife.  There
was no doubt in his mind that the she enjoyed him bedding her. But was she
capable of loving him?  Nay.   He grew angry over the direction
of his thoughts and the recognition that he wanted her to love him.  He
yearned for it. Hadn’t he always yearned for his own love, secretly?

Aye, Goran had been right. He’d let the salt of an
old wound fester in him far too long by letting his bitterness and grief over
Lady Jacqueline turn him into the brutal and viscous warrior he’d become. It
had hardened him and he’d taken what he wanted from women and left nothing
behind.

Never had he a care to remain with any before he’d
met Alexa.  Not even Jacqueline’s heated kisses and caresses roused him to
nigh madness in the way his wife did.  Few far and between knew who he
really was outside of Goran. His wife had yet to glimpse who he truly
was.  Mayhap this wooing business might ease some of the discord between
them. 

NINETEEN

Alexa had hoped after his actions last night that
she would be allowed to remain free and unbound. But she had hoped wrong for
Camm had come almost immediately after her bit of exercise had been completed
with one of his men in tow and the irons were clamped around her wrists and
feet. As she lay there, Alexa had fumed for what seemed like hours and at the
first signs of dusk, she almost gave in to her disappointment and sorrow. He’d
given his word that he would come to discuss things and when night fell and he
still had not, she went to sleep to stop herself from giving into tears. 

Voices soon woke her and Alexa turned toward the
sound to peer through her drowsy lids.  Her husband’s back and his man
Goran along with those same two men she’d not recognized earlier stood with the
chamber door propped open.  The great size of the men dwarfed all else in
the small barely lit corridor. Rourke stood with his large frame leaned against
the doorjamb.

Alexa knew she’d not made a sound, but he turned her
way and met her gaze. Those green eyes sent shivers down her spine.  He
said nothing and turned back and rejoined the conversation with the men.

What were they doing gathered here with their
whispers? She wondered.  Something was afoot. Their body language
confirmed it. Bits and pieces of their words reached Alexa’s ears and her body
went rigid at what she heard.

They were discussing the changes he’d made to her
home. She learned he had begun to build a Norman castle opposite the family
burial ground.  Sadness seeped into her bones as she listened to the
extensive plans the man had for her lands.  Growth and more wealth would
come, but at the expense of the English and to the likes of these Norman
invaders.  She understood now, why they were in the room.

Almost as if he’d heard her thoughts, he turned but
this time he faced her with one arched brow.  His expression, one of
amusement caused a tremor to run through her and Alexa, her sadness too great,
could not hide it from her gaze.  Feeling utterly helpless she turned her head
away and closed her eyes. She swore by the look in his eyes he’d hoped she’d
heard and she had. 

Sickness filled her gut.  He’d done it apurpose
for surely he'd known the depth of pain his words would bring to her
and Alexa cursed him silently.  There was naught she could about it
and he knew it. His cruel whims brought her deep grief. Tears stung the back of
her lids and she tried to will the sound of all their voices away. She had
asked for a discussion with him, not this.  Damn his cruel Norman hide!

She must have fallen asleep for when she woke again,
he was gone along with the others.  Darkness enveloped the room save for
the couple of candles; Camm no doubt, had left lit on the candle table. 
She had need of the garderobe and prayed her maid would return soon. 

Seeing the top of the wooden chest empty, she
realized she had not slept too late after all.  Camm had yet to bring the
evening meal and Alexa found her stomach churning at the thought.  She
cast the thought of food aside and took deep breaths when she realized she had
been mistaken. She was not alone after all and that someone yet remained in the
room.  She could hear them breathing in the darkness.

Panic seized her and too late, Alexa turned her
head. Hands came down hard over her mouth and nose, crushing and cutting off
her breath.

A soft cloth with a strong stench clinging to it was
shoved into her mouth. Alexa fought back the urge to retch, her eyes stinging
from the strong smell. She lost the battle. Fear of death gripped her over her
helpless position as the first spasms seized her throat.

He would take his wife her tray tonight. 
Rourke told himself it was just to make sure that she ate, not that he wanted
to see her or the sorrow gone from her eyes. The sorrow he’d put there earlier. 
His intent had been cruelty, but when he’d seen the pain in her eyes, something
had torn inside him. Deep regret had set in.  He’d tried to ignore it,
explain it away with many different reasons, yet, naught sufficed. Bringing her
tray was his first try in this madness of wooing that Goran so wished for him
to try.

He opened the door to her chamber and her chilling
wheeze met his ears.  

Pure terror raced through him as he watched her body
convulse on the bed as she gagged and choked nigh to death on the vomit spewing
from her throat all over her. 

Rourke bellowed, “Nay!”

The tray hit the floor with a loud crash and he was
next to the bed fumbling for the key in the fold of his tunic, but not fast
enough and so he flipped the mattress onto its side. His arms locked around her
jerking body and grasping her head, he held it at a painful angle as she bucked
and fought for air.

Finally when he had cleared the vomit from her
throat, she sobbed heavily as he quickly unlocked the chains.  The fear
that still gripped him caused him to pull her limp and sweaty form into his
arms and onto his lap. 

Vomit covered his tunic and breeches but Rourke did
not care as he held her whilst the hysterical choking sobs had their way with
her.   Alexa’s hands at first clutched at the collar of his tunic,
and then she beat her fists against his neck.  

“You bastard! I almost died!” 

Her gravelly voice, hoarser from the rawness of her
thick sobs cut through him sharply, causing him to wince.  He grabbed her
hands, gripping them in his.  She did not fight him. 

“I am sorry!”  And he was.  God’s teeth!
It was the truth. 

What if he had not come in just then? What if it had
been her maid?  Would she have saved her in time?  No! Rourke
shuddered over the thought and his arms tightened around her.  He did not
know that he buried his face in her damp hair as he groaned.  He had
almost lost her and for what? Over their stubbornness? His stubbornness! 

“My lord?”  Camm’s meek voice cut through
Alexa’s quiet sobs from the chamber door.

Without lifting his head, Rourke ordered the maid to
fetch fresh linens and a bath.  Camm, worried, quickly hurried from the
room.   

Alexa pulled away from him a little and gazed up at
him.  “Th-That was horrible.”  She shook, not caring that her soul
lay bare to him in that moment just as she noticed his was too.  It had
frightened them both. 

Rourke swept away the wisps of hair sticking to her
brow and cheeks with one hand, gently.   He could not say anything;
he was too choked with the terror of what had almost happened. He was glad she
cried, gave some solace that she had truly survived.

She watched the strange emotions play across his
face.   “I have never been so afraid in my life.  I thought I
was going to die like that.  Never have I wished so badly for the taste of
fresh air. ‘Twas horrible, awful and-” a choked sob stopped her words and her
amber eyes filled again.  Rourke closed his eyes, pulling her tight
against him once more and managed to utter near her ear.

“I am so sorry, Alexa. So very sorry.”  His
large hand cupped the back of her head as he pressed her tightly against
him. 

She clung to him, shivering and wrapped her arms
around his thick neck. “I was so helpless to stop them. They tried to kill me.”

Rourke drew back, alarm and suspicion on his worried
face.  He lifted her chin.  “Them? What of do you speak?”

Alexa swallowed, her eyes locked with his as her
fingers massaged the back of his neck.  “Mayhap it was just one. I am not
so sure. But, so-someone covered my mouth and put…put a rag in my mouth.”

Rourke gave her an odd look.  He had stopped
gagging her days ago.  “What rag?”

Alexa squawked, wrenching out of his embrace. Her
gaze swept over the bed and the floor.  Rourke looked too and neither saw
this rag of which she spoke.  Alexa’s shoulders slumped and a bewildered
look crossed her pale face.  

“It was here, I swear it!”  Her wide eyes shot
back to his angry green.  “Someone was in here with me. I tell you
truth!”  Her voice shook as she shouted at him. .

Fear crawled up Rourke’s spine. He had thought she’d
choked on food or drink. Not for one moment had he believed another attempt on
her life might have been the cause.  Rage built in him at the
thought.  And guilt.

He reached for her, but she shrank back, her
pleading eyes sought his for a sign that he believed her.  Rourke
did. 

Her tough exterior gone and in its place
vulnerability. It broke something inside him and he pulled her back against
him, fiercely in a snug embrace.

Camm returned along with others in tow for the bath
ordered.  Rourke hushed and spoke soothing words near Alexa’s ear in an
effort to ease her upset.  One large hand rubbed up and down her back over
the stained and sweat drenched shift that clung to her. She reeked of her vomit
and the smell only fueled his rage as he eyed every servant suspiciously as
they came and went. He was now surer than ever.

The killer was inside the manor.

Alexa forgot all about the discord and upset between
them. The thought of facing death and chained to that bed with that rag shoved
down her mouth should have had her railing in anger at him, but it didn’t. What
it did for her was make her realize that as for the many nights she’d lain here
and days since she’d met him, wishing, praying for death.  She did not
really want it.