Heart's Ransom (Heart and Soul) (7 page)

Marcus met him as he entered the keep, his eyes wide and worried.  “Send more men to assist Aaron,” Talon said.  “And fetch my weapons and armor from the glade.”

“Aye sir.”

Alys joined him on the stairs to Gwen’s room.  “My lord, is she injured?”

“Nay,” he said.  “Call for a bath and see to your lady, Alys.”

“Talon,” Gwen said as he eased her into a chair.  “Don’t leave me please.”

“’Tis all right, lady,” he said kneeling before her.  Gently he brushed her cheek.  “Bathe and I will see you at dinner.”

She looked down at his shredded stockings and her eyes widened. 

Talon scowled and glanced at the floor, surprised to see vivid bloody footprints on the stone.

Her fingers latched tightly on his.  “Sit, now.”

“Gwen--”

“I said now!” she snapped with the power of a battle commander.

Talon blinked at her in shock, his lips tugging upward.

She jumped to her feet, refusing to release his hand and used all of her strength to haul him toward a chair.

Talon found himself acceding grudgingly.  If he resisted with too much power, he might knock her to the ground.  He plopped in the chair, suddenly realizing his feet burned with fire.

“Alys, get me the basin and warm water.”

“Lady, what about your own feet?  You were barefoot too as I recall.”

She lifted her skirts slightly and gave him an impish smile.  He saw her toes peeking out from under the hem but no blood. “The advantage of rarely behaving like a lady when I could get away with it.  Ever since I was a child I’ve hated wearing shoes.”

Just like Rose,
he thought, smiling in amusement.
I have a devil of a time getting the child to wear shoes.

He couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him.  “Perhaps it’s an example I should start following.”

She gazed at him, as if startled he did not rebuke her.  Then her laughter joined his.  “Perhaps, my lord.” 

Alys brought the basin with warm water and Gwen gently began to clean his feet.

“Gwen, you do not--”

“Talon, I need to make certain there is nothing embedded or it could grow gangrenous.  Now be still and let me work.”

He had to admit her touch was sure and gentle but she did not stop at checking for splinters or thorns.  Her strong fingers also worked the muscles in his feet and ankles.  Talon closed his eyes and relaxed in his chair marveling at how something so simple could feel so wonderful.

Alys stepped out of the room for a moment and Gwen gazed up at him, her eyes once again a deep emerald.  “Talon,” she said softly.  “I...I....” Her pretty brow furrowed.  “Thank you just seems so insufficient.  But I really do appreciate what you did for me.”

He leaned forward, cupping her cheek.  “You are most welcome, my sweet.  And do not fear, I will not toss you to the wolves.  I will find the truth behind this plot.”

She ducked her head, a bright red color staining her cheeks.  “I know the truth,” she murmured.

“Pray pardon?”

“Nothing.  Thank you again, Talon.”

He sighed, gazing at the artistry of her beautiful face, longing to tug her closer for the kiss he had not been able to receive in the glade.  But he heard Alys at the door and sighed, lightly caressing her cheek with his knuckles.  Alys entered with a cup of wine and he sat back, nodding his thanks when she handed it to him.

But his thoughts tripped over themselves.  Was it true?  Had her own father ordered her murder?  If he did, how could Talon send her back to such a tyrant, knowing her life would end too soon and too violently?  How could he free Rose from a man who so blatantly disregarded life, even that as precious as his own daughter?

He squeezed his eyes closed and dragged in a deep breath. 
Please God, please do not allow Rose to fall into such vicious hands.  Please let me find her.

The next few nights tormented Gwen with images of blood and gore, awaking her in the middle of the night in a cold sweat and fighting back a scream of terror.  Yet with the passing of days she grew angrier over the whole thing rather than frightened.  She and Talon had such a wonderful time and then those sods had ruined it.  Now she’d never get him on another picnic again, she just knew it.

The true pain was knowing her father had hired Griffen to slay her.  She knew he hated her - but to actually order her death?

She snorted to herself.  In truth, parting with his precious gold in order to have the deed done was the most laughable of all.

But a bitter chill settled within her and she prayed Talon would not send her away from Montgomery.  She was not yet ready to die.

In an effort to divert her morose thoughts, Gwen returned to wandering the halls and bailey aimlessly.  Fortunately, Alys managed to find her some embroidery so she had something to do with her hands, but embroidery irritated her.  She far preferred weaving.  At least she was able to sit in the great hall and observe the happenings in the castle.

Talon departed every morning and returned late into the night, usually dirty and exhaustion lining his features.  He stalked into the hall, his mouth pressed into a hard line, his boot-heels slamming against the stone floor.  Oft, he inclined his head in acknowledgment when he saw her but would continue to his solar without breaking stride.

His manner and bearing seemed to turn as black as his clothing. 

Unwilling to risk asking him about riding so soon after their near disaster, Gwen struggled to find something to do.  During the evening after dinner sometimes she walked the ramparts.  She arrived just as the sun set and moved to the west wall to enjoy the brilliant colors.  Then realized she was not alone.

Talon stood, his hands braced on the granite wall, staring west, his back ramrod straight. 
The wind whipped his hair and swirled his cloak around him.  Gwen slowly moved toward him but he seemed to take no note of her approach, his gaze locked on the sunset.

She could not help but admire the powerful giant before her, his expanse of shoulders, and heavily muscled chest stretched taut the fabric of his tunic.  His lean waist, in perfect proportion to his body swept to strong hips, the line of his bulwark thighs stretched into long legs.  His heavy leather boots did little to hide the powerful calf muscles.

He was as beautiful as the sunset they watched.

She stopped a pace away from his right shoulder and focused on the brilliant sky, not wishing to disturb his enjoyment of the sight they silently shared.

****

Talon knew the moment Gwen approached.  He didn’t have to see her, he felt her.  Instantly a tremor rocked through the core of his being, every sense within him roused, heightening to an almost painful intensity.  He did not move, keeping his attention locked on the sunset. He fancied he could hear the soft intake of her breath.

The sun slowly vanished, a few flat wispy clouds scudding through the sky ignited into brilliant reds and golds, the blue of the approaching twilight deepened, with only a single powerful star visible.  The colors gradually changed their intensity as the sun dropped lower and lower.  The orange grew more pale then the red and gold, finally it vanished all together in a wash of varying shades of blue.  The wind eased slightly with the setting of the sun, dulling the roar in his ears.

Talon expelled his breath at the same moment Gwen did.

“That was beautiful,” she whispered.

Talon did not move except to glance over his shoulder at her.  The riot within him disturbed him greatly.  His attempt at sanctuary had been violated and he was not certain if he appreciated her intrusion.  His shoulders slumped slightly.  In truth, it wasn’t her fault, no matter where he went or what he did; he could not find sanctuary from the demons tormenting him.

He only wanted to find his daughter.

Gwen stepped forward, standing by his side, her hands braced on the wall.  His gaze locked on her slim fingers which suddenly appeared fragile next to his.  The slowing breeze whipped her raven hair around her shoulders.  She wore it loose again, with only the front locks braided around her head joining in the back.  The length of her hair sailed outward, brushing against his shoulder; a silken wisp caressed his cheek teasingly.

He pressed his hands harder against the rough granite to keep himself from burying his fingers in its soft wealth.

She gazed up at him, giving him the same silent regard he awarded her.  Her emerald eyes turned darker with the growing night.  Around him he heard his men lowering the portcullis and barring the giant gates to the castle.  They moved around the bailey, placing torches in their stanchions to light the path of their watch rotations.

Slowly Gwen tore her gaze from his to look over the land.  Talon’s throat tightened and his muscles coiled with the desire to lightly touch her chin and tug until she saw only him.  He scowled in astonishment.  Never before had he felt such a powerfully physical response to a woman, where he had to seize conscious control of his body to keep from acting on his desires.  Never had he been forced to battle himself and then fear he might lose the battle on top of it.

This was absolutely baffling.

He dragged a deep breath into his lungs then noticed Gwen’s gaze had focused on the dark shadows of Powys’ towers across the river.

He cocked his head, watching her closely.  Although the growing darkness made it difficult to see, he thought her face lost a bit of color.

“Do you miss Powys?” he asked, shocked he had actually spoke.

She looked at him startled then surprised him by shaking her head.  “Nay.  My father has ordered my death, remember?”

His scowl deepened.  “I mean your home.  If you did not have worry of your father.”

She gave him an unladylike snort and folded her arms over her chest, rubbing her arms as if she was suddenly chilled.  “In truth, my home was the prison.  Not Montgomery.  I do not think I will ever be comfortable there.  Too many painful memories.”

Talon arched an eyebrow then turned to lean back against the wall, his arms also folded over his chest.  “How so?”

She ducked her head and shrugged.  “My father did not have much use for a female child.  My brother and I...we were...reasonably close, but when he died; my father blamed me for being the one who lived.  I am...was...heiress only because a fever struck my father shortly after I was born and left him incapable of siring more children.  But if what Griffen said was true then my father’s new adopted son is now his heir, so I’m left with nothing.”  She hugged herself even tighter. 

Talon quickly removed his cloak and wrapped it firmly around her shoulders. 

She gazed up at him, her expression unreadable, and pulled the cloak closer.  “Thank you.”

He nodded curtly.  “I am still checking into the validity of all this.  I do not know how much weight to place in the words of an assassin.”

“True.  After my mother died when I was twelve, I actually looked forward to getting married and escaping my father.”  She paused and laughed bitterly.  “But my father defeated me there too and saddled me with Fitzalans.”

Talon swallowed hard.  Gwen would hate being married to Fitzalans, just as Eleanor hated being married to him.  He had witnessed firsthand Eleanor’s misery of being trapped in an awful marriage and had no desire to see the same happen to Gwen.

Abruptly Talon shook the painful memories away, dragging his hand through his hair.

Gwen reached up and rubbed her eyes.  Everything within Talon suddenly tensed.  Did he see the shimmering of unshed tears in her eyes?  But the starlight was too weak.  He could not be certain.  The question remained embedded in his thoughts.  Was Gwen as trapped in her life as it appeared?  Had Talon actually helped her by grabbing her on the trail?

It was almost too much to hope for.

She sighed heavily and returned her hands to the rock wall.  Talon never realized he moved until his fingers gently curled around hers.  His thumb traveled in a small circle on the back of her hand.  He felt himself entranced with the softness of her skin, the delicate bones of her hand, but her fingers tightened on his with surprising strength.

She gazed at him a long moment and Talon took a step closer to her as if pulled by some unseen force.  His body came alive with sensation, the air pulsing between them.  He inhaled deeply, filling his lungs with her scent mixed with the clean night air.

“Sweet Gwen,” he whispered, lowering his head so his lips hovered inches over hers.  “If you had the choice, who would you marry?”

Her eyes widened in surprise and Talon nearly groaned.  Where in the hell had that question come from and how had it managed to escape him?  He wanted to pull away from her, to somehow break this strange enchantment she had over him, the power that addled his wits so much that every time he opened his mouth, he might as well stuck his boot in it to chew on instead.  But he remained frozen, his body and mind completely in her thrall.

Her lips tugged upward slightly.  “I would like the man I marry to be strong and noble.” She looked to the stars, her gaze taking a dreamy quality.  “He would be honorable and gallant, but not overstuffed with himself.”  She paused, her intense eyes returning to him, fixing him in place, as if she peeled away his defenses and stared into his blackened soul.  “He would hold chivalry above all else,” she continued, her voice dulcet.  “His strength would be tempered with gentleness.  He would be a man I could love with all my heart.  To him I would not be an inheritance or status, but the woman he loved in return.”

Talon couldn’t help the snort that escaped him.  “I fear you have listened to too many bard’s tales and are in for a tragic disappointment, lady.  No man exists to those high standards.”

“I think there is,” she said with soft conviction.

He shook his head, chuckling.  “In all of my travels, I have never met such a man.”

“I have,” she snapped, then pulled her hand forcefully from his and strode away, Talon’s cloak swirling around her.

Confused, he watched her leave and an unsettling sense of loss washed through him.  Was it possible?  In the past had she somehow found the man who could be her true love?  Did she pine for this noble knight and did the man even know such a beauty longed for him?

Whoever he was, he was a lucky man indeed. 

Talon shook his head and turned back toward the dark vista before him.  He tried to push away the sudden despair coiling in the pit of his belly and failed miserably.

****

Come the dawn, after another night of no sleep, Talon strode out of the keep and into the bailey as his men mounted their horses.  A dull headache pounded between his temples, promising to grow worse.  But he was accustomed to the pain now.  Although exhausted every night, he slept fitfully, no more than a nightmare filled hour or two, usually getting up in the middle of the night to walk the ramparts to clear his head.  Unfortunately, more and more often he did not even attempt to sleep, knowing it would be futile.

Movement on his right caught his attention.  He saw a slight figure, wearing a finely woven mantle, slip furtively into the stables.  Talon hesitated, his eyes narrowing and his body coiling.  The figure was no doubt Gwen and he immediately wondered if she might be seeking her horse.  Suspicion gnawed at him; perhaps she had lied about not wanting to escape, waiting for him to drop his guard.

On the other hand, the mischievous lass could be planning another picnic.  He turned immediately for the stables, hearing the loud barking of his hunting dogs from their kennels, the cry of the falcons in their mews.  Horses whinnied, sheep bleated, and joined with the normal cacophony of the bailey yard.  Talon had several barns and stock pens and at first he did not see Gwen.  Then he saw a flash scamper around a corner and into another stable, with the furious sound of barking.  He turned and lengthened stride.

Talon stepped into the barn in time to hear Gwen’s cry of outrage.  “Oh you beast!” she shouted.  “Get away!”

A sudden panic completely obliterated any remaining suspicion.  He broke into a jog, seeing her at the very end of the barn.

“Nay!” she cried.  “Get away demon dog!”

Talon slid to a stop, two paces away, as he saw his best wolfhound, Samson, snarling at
something in the corner.  Without heed for her own safety, Gwen interposed herself before the giant hound and scooped something into her arms.

Samson, infuriated at the loss of his prize, snarled and lunged.  “Samson, nay!” Talon roared, charging forward.  His long arm reached out and he somehow managed to grab the dog by its collar in mid-flight.  Samson’s jaws snapped closed in front of Gwen’s face.  With a snarl of fury that matched the wolfhound’s, Talon flung the beast away with all of his might and quickly stepped in front of Gwen.

The hound landed on its feet and turned, gathering to lunge again.

“Nay, Samson!” Talon bellowed, praying the dog would recognize him.

The dog slid to a stop, looking up at him startled, then ducked his head and tucked its tail between its legs, whimpering.