Love's Call (6 page)

She didn’t need the healer. Her cursory stretch had told her all was well in her body. Her side, which had plagued her for months after Tynan had kicked her, didn’t even hurt anymore. Avril felt better than she had in turns.

When she was done in the privy, the low tones of the two men greeted her ears before she shut the door, Morag on her heels.

“…hasn’t told me everything I need to know,” Sir Roduch was saying.

Heat crept up Avril’s neck. How much had he told the healer? Would everyone know all about her?

She winced and ended up tripping over her feet.

The large knight was at her side in seconds, his hand swallowing her upper arm. But his grip didn’t hurt. “Are you all right, Avril?”

Avril met his pale eyes and her heart thumped. “I’m…I’m fine, thank you.”

He was huge indeed. She barely came up to his shoulder.

Sir Roduch lifted and carried her to the bed as if she hadn’t answered him.

Her face burned even more when he set her down as if she weighed nothing. Avril met the healer’s eyes.

He smiled, amusement rolling off him.

She looked away as her magic surged in reaction to his. He was
powerful.
More so than any other healer she’d ever met. His aura was bright and pale, and it glowed around his tall, slim form.

Most of the time, she had to concentrate to read an aura, but the healer had so much magic it was overt, as if it rested on the surface of his skin. It was thick, almost gold. This man was not only a healer, his soul was clean. He cared for people and had a pure heart.

A good man.

“Avril, this is Lord Tristan Dagget. He healed you last night. He won’t hurt you,” Sir Roduch said, his voice low and gentle. He must have misinterpreted the reason she’d shied away.

“Thank you,” she whispered, meeting the lord’s warm hazel gaze. This man was gentle, too. Strong of body and mind, but a healer through and through.

The lord nodded and reached for her hand.

She couldn’t refuse him. Calm washed over her the moment their fingers touched, and Avril sighed.

“How are you feeling this morning?”

“Good. Better than before,” she said, looking down.

He
knew.

His magic would have told him every bit of her physical history. Embarrassment warred with the artificial serenity his healing powers were pushing on her.

It’s all right. Let the magic relax you.
His mental speech tickled her mind with the thought-send. Soothing, even like his words moments before.

I’m sorry,
Avril thought-sent.

His smile dismissed her need for an apology. His skin glowed as he probed her, gripping both her hands.

Heat washed over her, and Avril sank into the softness of the bed, letting Lord Dagget search for what he would.

“There we are,” he said, pulling her gently into a sitting position what seemed hours later.

Limbs languid, her whole body was warm, as if she’d just gotten out of a hot bath. Comfortable and safe, Avril sought out the one person who’d been by her side, showing her she wasn’t alone anymore.

Sir Roduch.

Lord Dagget took a step back, breaking their physical contact.

Her knight looked nervous.

Avril scooted closer to him, reaching for his hand.

“She’s thoroughly patched up,” the healer said.

Sir Roduch’s large frame shuddered, as if her health mattered to him.

She swallowed hard. Their eyes locked and Avril smiled.

He froze, his pale eyes intense. Her heart sped up when she saw unshed tears. After entwining their fingers, he brought her hand to his lips, pressing a kiss into her knuckles.

Avril shifted on the edge of the large bed. She forced her gaze away, making eye contact with the healer. “Thank you, Lord Dagget.” She fought for composure, ignoring the emotion in the knight’s gaze.

I don’t even know him
.

“You’re very welcome.” His warm smile was infectious, and Avril smiled for the second time.

“Well, Avril, is it? Nice to meet you. I’m Cera.”

A very pregnant—but still striking—redhead stepped forward, a smile on her full lips. Her tan gown was plain, but she carried herself with elegance, despite her large tummy.

The duchess.

Beside her was a small woman with dark hair almost as long as she was tall. She wore a shimmery dark green gown with gold leaves embroidered on it. It was fancier than Lady Aldern’s.

Who was she?

There was a third woman, also a redhead, but a lighter shade than the duchess, her hair in a thick plait that fell to her waist. She wore brown breeches and a simple tunic covered by a hunter green jerkin.

The Rider.

Avril owed her thanks for finding her.

When had they entered the room?

She hadn’t even heard the door. Avril’s eyes darted around the room. The healer, the three ladies, two maids, plus her knight. Everyone was looking at her.

Her head swam, and she gripped the bedding with her free hand until her knuckles whitened.

Lord Dagget exchanged a look with Sir Roduch Avril didn’t miss, then the knight squeezed the hand that still rested in his.

She took a breath. The small gesture calmed. The room stopped spinning.

“Aimil-love, Cera, Ansley, give her some space,” the healer admonished gently, stepping toward the women. “She hasn’t even eaten yet.”

“I apologize,” Lady Aldern said, smiling. “I was eager to meet you and see how you are this morning.”

Avril scooted closer to Sir Roduch, wishing he was still on the bed so she could tuck herself into him, which was ridiculous, because none of the ladies meant her any harm.

“I’m…I’m fine.”
Manners, Avril.
“Good morning, Lady Aldern? Mistress Fraser? Lady—” She inclined her head to each woman.

Both redheads nodded, confirming Avril’s assumption.

“Aimil,” the dark-haired girl said, smiling. “I’m Tristan’s wife.” She gestured to the healer, who reached for her hand.

“I’m sure Avril and Roduch are hungry. They’ve had a long night. Let’s let them eat, and give Avril a chance to bathe,” Lord Dagget said.

Avril’s knight’s shoulders loosened.

She too relaxed a bit. Soon she would be alone with him again. She could get her bearings. And a bath would be heavenly.

“Of course,” Lady Aldern said. “Meara?”

“Yes, milady?” The girl hurried away from the tray of food and curtsied before the duchess.

“Why don’t you head down to the stores and find a few things for Avril to wear.”

Meara grinned, dimples visible, and nodded, her pigtails bobbing. “Yes, right away, milady.”

Lady Aldern’s smile lit up her beautiful face. Lord Dagget and the Rider grinned. Lady Aimil had her hand to her mouth, as if she was hiding a smile. Even Sir Roduch looked amused.

Avril studied the girl. She didn’t sense much magic, but as she concentrated, Meara’s aura flickered into view. Its pale pastels revealed the girl was pure of heart and content. Bubbly. No doubt she rarely went without a smile.

Envy rolled over Avril.

How could a young maid, whose duty was to serve people, be so happy?

“What’s your favorite color?” Meara asked, looking straight at Avril.

Gazing into the maid’s open sincere expression, Avril let go of her ill feelings. Meara was lovely.

Perhaps we can be friends?

Roduch chuckled, the ladies were grinning. Only Morag had tsked, but none of the others paid her any notice.

Avril struggled for words, biting back a gulp. No one had ever asked her preferences before. Tynan had bought her three new dresses when they’d gotten married, but he’d picked them out.

They’d been what
he’d
wanted her to wear. Dark colored, drab, and too old for her in style. She’d hated them every time she’d donned one. He’d even thrown out all the gowns she’d brought from home.

She’d had the same three garments for four turns. Mended time and time again. Lady Cera had thrown out the gown Avril had worn the most.

“Go on, lass, you can answer her,” Roduch said, amusement in his tone.

Her eyes darted to his before meeting Meara’s light brown eyes. “Umm…I like blue. Light blue.”

The maid nodded curtly and left the room whistling.

“I’ll have to have a word with that one,” the headwoman muttered.

“She’s fine, Morag,” Lady Cera said.

Morag said nothing, but her brow furrowed. Then she bowed and slipped into the privy room with a bucket of fresh supplies.

“Thank…thank you, Lady Aldern,” Avril said.

“It’s nothing, but you’re welcome.” She smiled, resting a hand on her swollen belly.

“I’ll be back to check on you later,” Lord Dagget said.

Heat rushed her cheeks, but Avril nodded.

Surreal.

A
lord
had healed her.
The
Lady of Greenwald was getting her new clothes. What could they want from her in return? She couldn’t pay them.

“Roduch will send someone to find me, should you need anything,” Lady Aldern said. “Morag has already ordered you a bath. You’re safe Avril.”

No doubt everyone in the room knew all about her. Her stomach churned, appetite dissolving.

“Don’t worry about anything right now,” he whispered, as if he could read her mind.

The healer and his wife entwined their hands and took their leave.

Mistress Fraser waited, smiling when Avril’s eyes rested on her.

“I’ll be back later with Jorrin,” Lady Aldern said to Sir Roduch.

Her knight nodded, rising to retrieve the tray of food.

“It was nice to meet you, Avril.” With an awkward bow, the duchess excused herself, the Rider on her heels.

She gasped. “Lady…Lady Aldern bowed…bowed to me.”

Sir Roduch chuckled, returning to his seat and placing the tray of food between them. “You’ll find out rather quickly we do things a bit differently around here.”

“Oh,” she said, but the steaming broth caught her attention, so she didn’t mull over his words.

“Ah, good, you’re eating. Sir Roduch, give me or Meara a shout when you’re both through and we’ll get her all cleaned up,” the headwoman said, drying her hands on her apron as she exited the sizable privy room. “The tub is ready to go. I’ll have the lads bring hot water.”

“Thank you, Morag.” Her knight inclined his head and the headwoman nodded before slipping from the rooms.

Silence descended, but Avril could finally breathe again. She was comfortable with the knight. Being alone with him was natural. Like they’d been acquainted for turns.

She watched his hands when he ripped fluffy bread open and spread butter all over it. He was warm and large and safe.

“Hungry?” he asked.

Her gaze shot to his face. One corner of his mouth lifted, and Avril chided herself to calm down.

“Yes. Very.”

Sir Roduch nodded and handed her a spoon for the broth. “I’m sure Lord Tristan ordered a light meal. Later we’ll get something more substantial than broth, if you wish. Some meat.”

“It’s fine,” Avril said, closing her eyes as she savored the rich taste on her tongue. “It’s very good.”

He laughed, and she looked up from her bowl, forgetting to take a bite of the sweet bread. The sound of his deep carefree chuckle was as appealing as he was.

Avril grinned.

Their gazes locked.

His pale eyes blazed with the emotions she refused to name yet again, and Sir Roduch reached for her hand, pressing a kiss into her knuckles without looking away. “Avril,” he breathed.

“Yes?”

“Don’t stop smiling, all right?”

Her heart thundered. “I’ll try not to.”

His chest heaved and the apple of his throat bobbed as he swallowed. “Good.” Her knight grabbed a hunk of bread and grinned.

Avril stared.

What had this man done to her?

Chapter Five

Leargan couldn’t get any decent sleep. Ansley Fraser was never far from his thoughts, and she haunted his dreams.

Dreams as real as visions, where she writhed naked beneath him as he touched and tasted every inch of her tall, slender form.

Over and over
.

If he closed his eyes, her phantom moans would drift into his mind.

He should be concentrating on Avril’s situation, but Roduch had things under control. They could do nothing until the girl told all.

Tristan urged that they not push her, and Jorrin and Roduch agreed.

So now, they waited. She was safe, but they needed
Avril
to recognize that. She would. Eventually.

Unfortunately, Leargan could use a distraction from Ansley. Waiting wasn’t satisfying.

His fantasies had only worsened since meeting with Lord Aldern.

“What’s so amusing?” Leargan had asked from his seat across from Jorrin’s desk in the lord’s ledger room the other day.

“See for yourself. I’m not sure you’ll like it…but perhaps you will,” the half-elfin duke had said. One corner of his mouth shot up, his blue eyes dancing.

His friend had leaned forward in his ornate chair, handing him the small scroll Ansley had delivered.

King Nathal’s red wax seal was broken but visible.

What does the missive have to do with me?

Jorrin tapped his cheek with a long finger and then brushed a strand of his too-long coal black hair past a slender, tapered ear.

Leargan glanced at him before looking at the scroll again, ignoring the duke’s eager amused expression. He read the words again and again, eyes more frantic with each pass. Repetition didn’t help his comprehension...or his denial.

Sweat broke out on his brow, and he tugged at the tunic collar that lay nowhere near his neck.

Swallowed hard.

Jorrin,

You are the recipient of this missive as a ruse more than anything.

Young Ansley Fraser has been a daughter to me as much as my own little Mallyn. Her father, My Captain, Sir Murdoch Fraser, and I were raised together and I owe him my life many times over.

Ansley has been a member of my Riders for several turns, and at the age of two and twenty, it is time for her to settle down. She is well past the age for marrying and both he and I agree that Leargan would be a good match.

She is unaware of the reason she was sent to Greenwald.