Midnight Warrior (7 page)

Yet he did feel it, blast it. From the first time she had looked at him he had experienced that tingle of antagonism.

“There.” She put down the bowl and gently wiped Malik’s mouth with a cloth. “Now you must go back to sleep.”

“I don’t wish—” Malik broke off and then said wearily, “Perhaps … I am a little tired.”

“Of course you are.” She gently stroked his temple. “Your body has too much to do. It needs to rest.”

“You’ll be here when I wake?”

“I won’t leave you.” She settled down beside him
and put her hand over the wound. “See, we will sleep together.”

“Only sleep? What a waste …” He touched her cheek with his index finger. “Radiance …” He closed his eyes and the next instant was deeply asleep.

But she was not asleep. Gage could feel her tension reach out to him across the room.

“Why are you staring at me?” she hissed.

“Because it pleases me. I find you … unusual.”

She stiffened, and he was once again aware of the wariness of the woman. “There’s nothing unusual about me, and I don’t like people staring. Your friend is safe now. Have you no duties to attend?”

“None more important than Malik.” He stretched out on his pallet, facing her. “And I’m tired too. You and Malik may have slept all day, but I didn’t.”

“That was your own fault. I told you he was getting better.”

“I didn’t trust you.”

“I think you trust no one.”

He smiled. “You’re wrong. I trust Malik.”

“Then it’s good that he will live.” Her face clouded. “It’s a terrible thing not to be able to trust.”

She was talking of herself, he realized. “Is there no one you trust?”

She started to shake her head and then stopped. “I trust Selbar.”

“Who is—”

“Never mind.” As if regretting revealing a weakness, she hurried on. “And it is very foolish of you not to trust in me when you clearly know nothing of healing yourself.”

“I know enough not to give up when a fool of a priest tells me there is no hope.”

“That is true. It is important never to give up hope.” She closed her eyes. “Perhaps you are not so ignorant as I thought.”

“Many thanks,” he said ironically.

She did not answer, but he knew she was not drifting off to sleep. She was closing him away from her.

Anger and annoyance flared in him again. He was happy Malik was on the way to recovery, but something about both the situation and the woman chafed at him unbearably. Just the sight of her lying there with Malik made him want to reach out and—

What?

He did not know, but the impulse was both primitive and violent. It could be he merely felt helpless. It was his custom to shape events in the way he wished them to go, and now he could not do it.

Well, these circumstances would not last. Malik would heal and then Gage would once again be in control.

He closed his eyes and willed himself to sleep. Selbar.

Who in Hades was Selbar?

“I beg pardon for disturbing you, my lord,” Delmas said hesitantly. “I would talk with you about my wife.”

Richard looked up from his goblet with a scowl. Christ, was his lot not bad enough without being approached by this whining rabbit? The slave had been hovering around him for the entire two days he had been back at Redfern. “Go away, or I will skewer you like a pig for roasting.”

Delmas flinched but did not move from the doorway of the hall. “You must return her to me.”

Richard took a drink of ale. “Must?” he repeated menacingly.

“It’s not right to part husband and wife.”

“Indeed?” Richard rose to his feet and moved a trifle unsteadily across the hall. He briefly regretted the amount of ale he had imbibed. It would impair his pleasure in punishing the impertinent swine. “You dare to tell me what I should do?”

“It is only …” Delmas moistened his lips. “No, my lord. Whatever you do is proper. I’m sure you thought giving her to the Norman was for the best. It is only …” He suddenly burst out, “I must have her back.”

“A young wife is too full of juice and fire for a man of your years,” Richard gibed. “She will be much more content with the Norman.”

Delmas hesitated. “What of your lady? She may have need of her.”

Richard’s hand lashed out and knocked Delmas to the ground. “My lady is my concern and mine alone.” God in heaven, he was weary of the reproachful looks these minions had given him since he had returned. Even Alice had dared protest when he had taken her away from serving Adwen to use in his bed. Well, he had lessoned that slut and would teach respect to this whining rat. “Mine!” He kicked him in the stomach. “Keep your mouth and your—”

“Forgive me, my lord.” Delmas skittered across the floor out of reach. “I merely thought Brynn would serve you better here than with the Norman. If you believe her to be of more service …” He got to his feet and stood gazing at him with desperation as Richard started toward him again. Then, as if coming to a decision, he said, “I sought only to save the treasure for you. The Normans have taken enough from us.”

“Treasure?” Richard stopped. “What treasure?”

“My wife knows where there is a great treasure trove.”

“Liar.”

“No, truly.” He took a step back. “I have not been able to force her to tell me where it is, but you are far more skilled. Think, my lord, William will have knowledge only of Redfern and your present wealth. When you retrieve the treasure, you could secret it away from him and use it to barter back your former stature.”

The slave was probably lying, but a few questions would not hurt. “Where is this treasure?”

“Gwynthal.”

He did not recognize the name. “Wales?”

Delmas frowned uncertainly. “I don’t think it is in Wales.”

“You don’t know?”

“I found Brynn in the small village of Kythe in Wales. As I said, I could not force her to tell me anything about Gwynthal.”

“Then how do you know about it?”

“Everyone in the village knew of Gwynthal and the treasure. Her father boasted of it when he had too much ale. He was always mumbling something about an island.”

“An island!” Richard snorted in disgust. “How can a woman find one island in a vast sea? Or am I supposed to sail aimlessly until I find this island?”

“When I found Brynn she was in the forest far away from Kythe on the road to the village of Selkirk. Selkirk is on the sea. Doesn’t that suggest she must have knowledge of where this island is located?”

“Perhaps.”

Encouraged by Richard’s interest, he took a step closer and said eagerly, “Can’t you see? We need Brynn back.”

We. Did the fool actually think he would share such a treasure if it did exist? However, it could prove wise to continue to foster the belief. Delmas was not only familiar with this Welsh village but was Brynn’s husband and might be able to influence the woman. He turned and went back to his chair. His step was a little steadier; the effect of the ale must be leaving him. Good. He would need a clear head to sift truth from myth.

Treasure. It seemed too easy a solution to his plight.

Yet didn’t he deserve a stroke of good fortune after the way fate had ravaged him? A useless woman as his wife, a king who could not keep his lords’ lands safe from those Normans. Yes, it was time Richard was given his due.

He sat down and stared with contempt at Delmas’s eager expression. Disgusting creature. How low he had fallen to be forced to deal with this vermin. He leaned back and allowed himself a faint smile. “If what you say is true, then I agree we must try to retrieve your wife from the Norman.”

“It is true. I swear it.”

“Oaths have little value. You want her back.”

Delmas hesitated and then reached into the pouch at his belt. “I have proof. She had this when I found her. It was on a chain she wore about her neck and she fought like a young wolverine when I took it from her.”

The small, perfect ruby in Delmas’s palm shone bright in the candlelight.

Richard carefully hid his sudden interest. “It is of no great size.”

“But clear and of an excellent color. Where would a simple village girl get such a jewel?”

Richard took the jewel and held it closer to the candle flame. The ruby was quite perfect. “Where, indeed,” he murmured. He leaned back in his chair. “But I must know a great deal more before I can judge whether it’s because you lust after her body or this so-called treasure. Tell me more of your meeting with Brynn of Falkhaar and this Gwynthal.”

“Where is Gwynthal?” Malik asked.

Brynn stiffened, stopped in mid motion of spreading salve around the wound. “What?”

“Gwynthal. That is where you were born, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” She took more salve from the pot. “But I don’t remember telling you about it.”

“She didn’t tell you,” Gage Dumont said from across the tent. “I would have remembered.”

“Perhaps you weren’t in the tent.” Malik frowned, trying to remember.

“I’ve scarcely left you since that first night,” Gage said.

It was true, Brynn thought. He had been a powerful, vigilant presence since the moment of Malik’s awakening, watching her for any false step, encouraging Malik. At times she had felt the sheer force of his will alone was pulling Malik farther and farther from the darkness.

Malik was still perplexed. “Cool green forests, wonders around every bend …” he murmured.

Her own words when she had been trying to reach him that first night.

“That’s right, isn’t it, Brynn?” Malik asked.

“That’s right.” She smiled at him. “I told you about Gwynthal the night I first came. I didn’t think you’d remember.”

“I didn’t know I did.” Malik yawned. “It just came back to me.”

“But you said Malik had not awakened during the night,” Gage Dumont said softly. “Or didn’t you tell me the truth?”

“I don’t lie.” She started bandaging the wound. “Sometimes I can reach deep just by talking. I try to remind those who are away how much there is waiting for them if they come back to us.”

“Surely an odd thing to do,” the Norman said.

She whirled on him. “I do what I have to do. If you can do better, heal him yourself.”

Malik quickly intervened. “I think you are very clever. Gwynthal must be very beautiful. Any man would want to come back to such a place.”

She relaxed as she glanced at him. “Yes, very beautiful. I’ve never seen such a lovely, peaceful place.”

“Peaceful?” Gage’s tone was mocking. “I didn’t think there was such a place on this earth.”

“Because you do not seek it. Like all warriors, you
would rather kill and maim. Gwynthal has always been at peace.”

“I cannot believe that.”

No, Gage Dumont was everything that was dark and violent and storm-ridden. He would not accept or understand a land like Gwynthal. Yet she did not see that darkness when he spoke to Malik, she realized suddenly. When he was with his friend it was as if a brilliant ray of sunlight pierced the clouds, enveloping, absorbing everything in its path. What would it be like to have that brilliance centered on one? It would probably be even more disconcerting than the darkness. “I did not ask you to believe me.”

“If Gwynthal is such a wondrous place, I’m curious as to why you’re here among the savages.”

“That is not an intelligent question to ask a woman who you call your slave. I had no choice. I was brought here.” She finished bandaging the wound. “There, it is looking much better, Malik. The healing is beginning.”

“It itches,” Malik said drowsily.

“A good sign, but don’t scratch it.” She rose to her feet. “Take a nap now while I go and heat water to wash you.”

She left the tent and strode toward the campfire. She drew a deep breath of clean, cold air. She had not realized how tense she had been until she had escaped Gage Dumont’s presence. Those ice-blue eyes were too cold and watchful; he saw too much.

“May I be of service, demoiselle?” She turned to see Paul LeFont approaching on horseback. She had seen him infrequently since that first night, but he had been polite, even kind on those occasions. She remembered how fierce and stern he had looked beneath the torches in the courtyard. Now, with no armor and no helmet covering his gray-streaked hair, he appeared much more approachable. He was past his thirtieth year,
a tall, lean man whose body was likely as hard as his face and whose manner was cool, precise, and confident.

“I need water for washing,” she said. “If you would be so kind as to have someone fetch it.”

“It will be my pleasure.” He turned his head and issued an order in French to someone across the camp. “I would do it myself, but I must don armor. I’m leaving at once to escort the prisoners to William’s camp.”

The prisoners. She had been so involved with healing that she had forgotten those unfortunate souls. “Lord Kells?”

“Yes, he is among them.”

“What will happen to them?”

LeFont shrugged. “That is up to his grace, since Lord Gage says he has no use for them.”

“Do you have a fondness for this Lord Kells?” Gage asked from behind her.

Her tension returned at the silky utterance. It was as if the Norman were always trying to capture her in some mischief. “He’s Lady Adwen’s father and the first Saxon lord I knew here in England.”