Legendary Warrior (12 page)

After several agonizing moments of fighting with herself, she surrendered to her own curiosity, kneeled in front of the trunk, and opened it.

A small blue wool blanket lay on top, and she gently moved it aside to discover several leather-bound ledgers. She removed one and carefully opened it. The handwriting was neat and small, and the text was French—a familiar name within the lines.

I gave birth to a fine son today after much pain, and though I continue to ache and feel exhausted, I also feel wonderful. He nestles in my arms, his fists tightly clenched, and he snuggles to me for warmth. He has claimed my heart, this tiny son of mine, and I will protect him well. He deserves a fine name and so I have decided to name him after my grandfather, for he was a courageous and fair man. I will call my new son—Magnus.

Chapter 15

R
eena stared at the map in front of her, quill in hand. She had retired to her room over an hour ago and had yet to lay quill to paper. Her mind overflowed with all that had transpired in a single day, and she was now trying to make sense of it.

Talk during the evening meal was of the mysterious messenger. Tongues wagged and gossip spread, but no one had an answer as to who could have sent him. But Reena’s mind continued to wander to the kiss she and Magnus had shared.

She could not rid her mind of the taste of him. He lingered there and on her lips, warm and pungent, tempting the senses, and she responded to the vivid memories.

Her skin grew warm, her flesh tingled, and she ran her tongue slowly over her lips, reclaiming the taste of him. She shivered, and gooseflesh rushed to prickle her skin.

She shook her head, a firm, hard shake to clear her thoughts. She was foolish to dwell on a kiss. She had work to do and she was wasting time on nonsense. Magnus was lord of Dunhurnal and she was in his service. She certainly was not the type of woman he would love. He would love and wed a woman who would give him many heirs, tend to him and their children and his keep. She, on the other hand, wished to map, and that would mean travel. She had no time for love, and she did not think she was suited to be a mother. Adventure, travel, mapping was what interested her, and they did not go well with being a wife.

Or were they mere excuses she made for the stark cold fact that the Legend simply would never love a woman such as her?

She turned her troublesome thoughts to the prospect of drawing Magnus. His defined features were made for drawing, and she intended to do as he suggested—draw him.

Would she then understand him better?

There was much to understand, especially the journal she had discovered in the trunk. It had belonged to Magnus’s mother, and the trunks seemed to have been hidden away in that small room.

She had had no chance to continue reading the entries. Footsteps had fallen heavy on the stairs, and she had quickly returned the journal to the trunk before closing the lid. Two of Magnus’s men had entered the room and removed the trunks, though she knew not where.

Questions gathered like storm clouds in her mind, filling with possibilities and getting ready to burst. Could his mother have lived here at Dunhurnal? Or had the trunks been brought here and hidden? And was there more to the reason why the king had granted Dunhurnal land to Magnus?

She rubbed her forehead, her thoughts a jumble of questions with few answers.

“You work too hard.”

Reena jumped, startled by Magnus’s sudden presence.

“I did not hear you enter.”

“I doubt you would have heard a troop of men enter. You appeared too engrossed in thought.” He approached her desk, walking around to where she sat to stand beside her and look over the map she worked on.

“I have not gotten very far.”

Magnus disagreed. “You have done more than I expected, and your detail is remarkable.” He studied the tower room she had drawn and marveled at the preciseness of her strokes. The windows matched in size, and each window was marked with a Roman numeral and a direction inscribed in Gaelic and Latin, as was a spot on the wall where the door to the small room would be located.

Reena pointed to the Latin inscription. “North, south, east and west so you know where you look upon. The Roman numeral corresponds to another map, which will give you the view from the window. The numeral on the door corresponds to a map of the small chamber, which shows little—a bare, cell-like room with a metal ring secured to thick wood.”

“You noticed the metal ring?”

“I make myself aware of all that I see and record what I see. I know not if it is important, I only know that I see it and therefore record it.” She asked one of the questions that troubled her thoughts. “Do you know the metal ring’s purpose?”

Magnus remained silent for a moment, and she waited, knowing he would answer after his own thoughts had settled.

“The metal ring is to chain a prisoner.”

“The small chamber is a prison?”

“A special prison that no one knows exists.”

Reena was appalled. “How horrible. The room is too remote, far removed from the rest of the keep. A person could die in that room and no one would ever know.”

Magnus pointed to the tower room. “In this room as well. No cries would be heard even from the windows; they are too far up. The screams would sound like a mere whisper when they reached the ground.”

She pointed where he did, her finger touching his. “Will you imprison here?”

There was another moment of silence that had Reena wondering what secrets—or, perhaps, nightmares—haunted him.

“Nay, this room will know no more sorrow.”

She thought to comfort him, though from what she did not quite understand; she only knew that the sorrow he spoke of belonged to him. She splayed her hand over his. “Furnishings that lend comfort, tapestries that add color and a larger fireplace that chases away the cold would all welcome anyone who enters the tower room.”

He moved his fingers to lock onto hers and held tight. “You have ideas for change, this is good.”

As she had extended comfort with her touch, he extended comfort with his firm grasp, and it was a natural comfort they shared. It took no effort, no thought, no choice; it was a reaction of the heart.

Flutters rushed through her stomach and up to circle her heart and she smiled, knowing there was nothing she could do.

He leaned his face close to hers. “Do what you will to the room.”

She shook her head. “The choice belongs to the lord of the keep.”

“The lord of the keep is instructing you to see to the changes.”

“And if you should not care for them?”

He tucked a wisp of her long dark hair behind her ear, his finger slowly stroking the edge. “I trust you.”

A sturdy knock on her door interrupted them and the shiver that raced through her.

“Enter,” Magnus called out.

Thomas entered. “You are needed.”

Magnus nodded, then turned to Reena. “I will give orders that you are to be helped with the tower room, but the mornings are ours to spend touring the keep, and in the evenings we will discuss our findings.” With a kiss of her hand he left, closing the door behind him.

Perplexed by the touch of intimacy, she stared at the closed door. If she gave thought to the time they spent together, she would see that he often reached out to touch her. And while his touch had at first been no more than a helping hand, it had slowly changed without her realizing it—until now.

His hand had often gone to her arm, guiding her along dark passageways. His arm would find her waist when stairwells became steep, and he would stand close beside her when looking over a map, his cheek brushing hers.

Was it on purpose?

Did he find her interesting?

Did he find her appealing?

He would not tend toward intimacy if he did not at least find her appealing.

Or did he favor a mere sexual romp?

Her thoughts were once again a whirlwind of questions, and she shook her head, growing tired of the endless barrage of doubts. She was grateful for the faint knock at her door, the intrusion helping to clear her mind.

“Enter,” she said and smiled when Brigid entered. Her grin grew wider when she saw that her friend held a tray filled with tarts and a pitcher of—she sniffed the air. “Old Margaret made her winter brew and you made your fruit tarts.” She rubbed her hands together in anticipation and cleared a small table to move in front of the hearth.

Brigid’s smile was generous. “Aye, I thought you could use both. You have been busy of late.”

She set the tray down while Reena pulled two chairs to the table. The fire snapped and crackled and provided a toasty warmth to the room. The two women sat and were soon enjoying the winter brew and the tarts.

“Your mother tells everyone that while she wishes you would visit with them more often, she knows how busy you are in the service of Lord Dunhurnal.” Brigid laughed lightly. “Your father once again tells his tales, though now they are about you. Your parents are proud of you.”

Reena’s smile was tender. “I am glad to hear this. I had worried so about them.”

“You worried about everyone except yourself.” Brigid did not accuse: she reminded.

A whimper caught their attention, and it grew louder as Reena walked to the door. She opened it, and Horace ran in, heading straight for the table.

Reena returned to her seat and gave the pup, who had grown considerably over the last few weeks, a generous piece of her tart.

“See,” Brigid said on a laugh. “You even put the pup before yourself.”

“Can you not see that he grows and needs the sustenance?” Reena laughed herself.

“Horace gets sustenance from everyone.”

“Food is plentiful.”

“Because of you,” Brigid reminded. “The villagers are grateful, though they remain fearful that Kilkern will have his retribution.”

“Magnus will see to Kilkern,” Reena said with confidence.

“Aye, I agree, but memories of last winter linger, and if by chance Kilkern gains control of this land, he will be harsh in his revenge.”

“How could he do that? Magnus’s strength far surpasses his.”

“Gossip has started that Kilkern will petition the king to return Dunhurnal land to him since it is rightfully his.”

“He but
thinks
he deserves it,” Reena said. “He has no right to the land, gossip says the king granted it to Magnus in return for his service and the king will see that it remains his. All will go well here.”

Brigid nodded. “I believe the same. The sadness in my heart grows less heavy each day, and with our move to Dunhurnal land, I now look forward to another day.”

“You will love again,” Reena assured her, but it wounded her heart to think that she might find that love with Magnus.

“I care not about finding another love right now. The pleasures of life are slowly returning to me and I wish to enjoy them.” She laughed. “It feels good to cook again and have the food appreciated.”

“Thomas?” Reena asked.

“Aye. He has been an enormous help to me and he is so kindhearted. I enjoy his visits. He is a good man and wants only friendship from me. I am at peace with my loss and that is good, and now I go on.”

“I am glad to hear this and I am happy for you. It has been too long since we have been happy, though Justin is certainly happy.”

Both women smiled wide and leaned closer to share gossip.

“He spends all his time with Maura,” Brigid said. “And she with him. They are inseparable.”

Reena added her own news. “They are always smiling when I see them, whether they are together or apart. I sometimes wish I had more time to spend with family and friends, but time is something I have little of, though I do not complain, and I doubt many understand my penchant for mapping or drawing.”

“No one comments—they accept you for who you are, and besides, they are grateful for your courage.”

“I did what was necessary for the good of all.” Reena did not wish to discuss herself and quickly changed topics. “I have a favor I need of you. I have ideas for the tower room and would like your help.”

“I would love to help you. Tell me your ideas.”

The two women discussed the room until several yawns alerted them to the late hour. Brigid bid her goodnight, excited and ready to start the project they had discussed.

Reena was filled with excitement of her own, and though several yawns warned she was not far from slumber, she decided to finish a few details on the map she’d worked on.

A surprising growl from Horace, who lay curled in front of the hearth, alerted her to a late-night visitor. The flickering shadows in the room, the sound of crackling fire, the lateness of the hour and Horace’s steady growl gave her a sudden unease.

The knock eased her worry, though she called out, “Who is it?”

“Magnus.”

Her concern faded completely at the sound of his strong voice.

She bade him entrance.

“I saw the faint light under your door and could not believe you remained awake at this hour, and still working. And was that a growl I heard from my dog?”

Reena giggled. “I think he grows courageous with age.”

“But he growls at his master,” Magnus said with a laugh and a shake of his head.

Horace had already returned to his sound slumber, ignoring them both.

“You have worked since I left you?”

“Nay, Brigid visited, I wish only to finish a detail or two.”

“Brigid is good?” Magnus approached her desk.

Reena repeated her friend’s words. “She is at peace with life.”

“I am glad to hear that. She is a good woman.”

Reena thought to try once again and see if there was a chance for Magnus and Brigid, though she hesitated for a moment and wondered over her reluctance to speak.