Sharon Schulze - L'eau Clair Chronicles 03 (20 page)

“Good morrow, wife,” he whispered, drawing her down for a kiss.

He held her attention quite thoroughly with his lips, and she felt herself start to drift into the fog of passion she’d inhabited the night before.

But they didn’t have the time to indulge themselves now.

“Shouldn’t we be going?” she asked when they paused for breath.

“Regrettably, yes,” he said with a sigh.

Lily tried to roll off him and discovered that she could scarcely move. Ian assisted her in sitting up. She realized she was sore in many places. She hadn’t hurt when he made her his, but she hurt now. Sitting atop the horse today would be painful, she could tell that already. Still, she smiled. Last night had been worth every twinge.

“Are you all right, sweeting?” Ian asked, scooping her into his arms and setting her on her feet.

“Just give me a little time to move about and I’ll be fine,” she told him as she clung to his arm.

He watched her closely when she stepped away from him and bent to pick up her under tunic

“I apologize,” he said.

“Here, sit. I’ll get everything ready to go.” He knelt down beside her.

“I shouldn’t have been greedy,” he said.

“I didn’t realize how sore you’d be.”

“I’ll be fine, Ian, once I get moving. We cannot stay here,” she pointed out.

“If the men who came to Ashby were truly looking for us, we need to get to l’Eau Clair soon.”

“I know.” Although his voice seemed calm, normal, she could see concern in his eyes, and his face was set in stern lines.

He helped her dress, then offered her food and mead.

She accepted the food eagerly, for she was hungry after their exertions of the previous night. Once he’d smothered the dying fire, they went on their way.

Ian tried to make it easier for her, but even though she sat pillion before him, cushioned on a folded shirt, every jolt of the horse brought a new twinge of discomfort. Finally, in an effort to distract her, Ian began to sing in a low voice.

Most of the songs were lewd, probably worse than they sounded. She didn’t understand half of the words. Many of the things she did understand sounded physically impossible.

She asked him to explain some of the songs, and he soon had her doubled up with laughter.

“You’re jesting, aren’t you?” she asked after he told her what one song meant.

“People don’t really do those things—” she gazed up at him through her lashes “–do they?”

“Certainly they do,” he said, eyes twinkling in return.

“Would you like to try—” “No!” She poked him in the ribs.

“You aren’t serious, are you?”

He loved how huge her eyes became when she couldn’t decide if he was joking. She knew so little of the world;

he could see that some of the songs shocked her, though they weren’t shocking at all, Many were soldiers’ ditties, true, but others were sung in noble households.

He wondered yet again if he’d done her a grave disservice by wedding her so soon after she emerged from the abbey, What if she came to regret marrying him after she became more accustomed to everyday life? What of his duties for Llywelyn? Assuming the prince would allow him back into favor, Ian knew he might have to do things that would disgust Lily. How would he bear it if she turned away?

Already he couldn’t stand the thought of leaving her.

If their lives ever returned to normal, he’d have to leave her on occasion, whether on the prince’s business or on his own.

Simply thinking of it made him ache with loneliness—he who had never minded being alone.

And what would he do if the prince refused to allow him back into his service? That Llywelyn would be angry over this, Ian had no doubt. Clearly, he’d intended Lily’s existence to remain a secret until he had need of her.

“Twas no use thinking of it yet again. He’d only grow angry himself—again. He’d be better served to make certain that he and Lily arrived at l’Eau Clair as soon as possible. Gillian’s keep was located more toward the English side of the marches—hence its strategic importance to Llywelyn. They’d be safer there, while they decided what to do next.

Ian scanned their surroundings. When they left the hut this morn, the sun had been out, although there had been numerous patches of fog to obscure the way. But the sun had disappeared by noon, leaving the day shrouded in gloom. He had the feeling that it would start to rain again soon, and he knew of no place in this area convenient for ‘ shelter.

Although Lily hadn’t complained, she had to be damnably uncomfortable. But she kept it hidden, laughing at his songs, asking him about his sister and Nicholas, making the time pass quickly for both of them. She carried such joy within her, and she was un stinting about sharing it with him.

He’d remember their first night together for the rest of his life. Lily had given him a gift, a feeling he’d never before shared. In the past, lovemaking had been an urge to be satisfied, like hunger or thirst. But sharing passion with Lily had been different from anything he’d felt before.

Already he yearned for more.

They crested a steep hill and stopped to rest the horse before venturing down the narrow path on the other side.

He dismounted and turned to help Lily from the saddle.

Suddenly her welcoming smile changed to an expression of horror.

“Ian!” she screamed.

He jerked his sword free as he whirled and they fell upon him.

Four men, well armed with swords and daggers—and the element of surprise. Ian kicked and slashed, dodging many, but not all, of their blows. Rocks clattered down the slope, striking one of the men a stunning blow.

So now there were three.

Suddenly hooves thundered down the path and into their midst. His horse leaped into the thick of the fight, feet flying. The stallion kicked out, scattering the men straight into a hail of stones.

Lily knelt above them, shrieking abuse as she pitched rock after rock down the slope. Most of them missed their targets, but she kept at it.

Ian took the opportunity afforded by her harassment to continue his attack. Between the rocks, the horse and his sword, eventually the band of attackers were subdued. The last man surrendered with a whimper, once he saw that he faced the Dragon alone.

“There’s rope in the saddlebag,” he called to Lily after he calmed the stallion and discovered that the packs had fallen off the’ saddle halfway down the hillside.

“Can you find it?”

She scrambled about on the loose rocks, then flopped onto the grassy verge to dig through the bag, grimacing as she squirmed. She tossed the rope down to him, and he jerked out of the way just in time.

All four men had injuries, but none appeared life-threatening.

He trussed them up and left them sitting alongside the path. Their weapons he pitched over a nearby cliff.

“Who sent you?”

“Twas Llywelyn, milord. Said as how you’d gone missing, along with something he values greatly. Offered us a reward if we brought you back to him. Said you’re an outlaw now.”

By Christ’s bones! He hadn’t thought it would come to this. He’d underestimated his overlord greatly, it seemed.

They had to get moving. Now. There was no telling how many others Llywelyn had sent after them.

“Someone will travel this track eventually,” he told them, his voice as cold as ice.

“You’ll survive till then, I imagine.” He whistled the horse over and checked the saddle.

“If some animal doesn’t get to you first.”

He lifted Lily onto the saddle carefully, but still he couldn’t miss the fleeting look of pain in her eyes. Swinging up behind her, he scanned the sky. Heavy black clouds scudded across the heavens, and lightning flashed and thundered in the distance.

He spurred the horse on, hoping to reach lower land before the storm reached them. These hills were dangerous under the best of conditions, and in a storm they could be deadly.

Lily clung to the saddle as the stallion slid down the rock-strewn hillside. Sensing the oncoming storm, the animal rolled his eyes wildly, Ian had his hands full keeping the beast from bolting when thunder boomed nearby.

The rising wind was strong, blowing sticks, leaves and dirt into their faces and making it difficult to see.

“We’ve got to find a place to wait this out!” he shouted to Lily.

She nodded and huddled deeper in his arms.

They reached the small valley at the bottom of the mountain just as the clouds opened up and sent a torrent pouring over them. It had gotten so dark, especially down here in the glen, that he could scarcely see ten feet before them.

The stallion plodded on, head hanging low as he forged through the wind. Ian wrapped himself about Lily, protecting her as best he could.

He didn’t know how long they traveled thus, plunging into the darkness for want of a place to shelter. It had obviously been too long, for he could have sworn he heard snatches of song in between the near-constant rumbling of thunder.

Flickering light shone up ahead, and Ian headed for it.

Before long, he realized they were moving toward the mouth of a cave.

A fire burned merrily under the overhang, flaring up when the wind gusted. Ian halted the horse and slipped from the saddle, then pulled Lily into his arms.

A figure walked toward them from inside the cave, a dark shape silhouetted against the fire. Ian couldn’t distinguish more, but friend or foe, they were going into the cave.

The man stepped out into the light.

Lily gasped and clutched Ian’s shoulders tightly.

He started to laugh when he saw the man’s face.

It was Siwardson.

Dragon, Lily. Well met. Come, join me by the fire.”

Siwardson reached out to take Lily, but Ian had no intention of handing her over to him.

He nodded to the Viking as he walked past him into the cave, then knelt to lower Lily onto the ground near the leaping flames. The icy rain had soaked her cloak, and she’d begun to shiver. Her teeth chattered hard. He had to get her warm–quickly.

Siwardson rummaged through a bundle leaning against the back wall, then brought them a blanket, Ian stripped away Lily’s sodden cloak and wrapped the blanket about her, then sat behind her and drew her into his arms to give her his warmth, as well.

Siwardson’s face, as always, looked cheerful. Ian couldn’t tell what went on behind those pale blue eyes, a fact that infuriated him.

But he’d take it as a good sign that he hadn’t seen Siwardson’s infamous knife yet.

Still, it wouldn’t hurt to question him, see if he could discover what the Viking was doing out here.

“Twas far too coincidental, under the circumstances.

“Tell me, Siwardson—will I have to fight you again anytime soon?” “Nay, Dragon, not at all.” He grinned, his teeth flashing white in the firelight.

“You won. It was a fair fight.

And I like your sense of humor. I hadn’t realized before then that you had one.”

Sense of humor—?

““Twas a good trick, tying me up that way. I’d never have thought of it, myself. The scratches are nothing now, though they stung like the devil at the time. But it took a while to untangle myself from that bush. Excellent idea,” he added, his deep voice warm with admiration.

Ian shook his head. He couldn’t understand Siwardson.

It probably wasn’t worth it to try.

“Are you like the others now, out to capture the Dragon and claim the reward?” Ian asked.

“Or do you seek revenge upon me?”

Siwardson snorted.

“Don’t include me with the idiots your prince sent out looking for you. He declared you outlaw soon after I left. I haven’t been back. I didn’t want to be there once he realized that I’d handed Lily over to you, not the abbess.” He poked at the fire with a stick, staring into the flames. Then he looked up suddenly, snaring Ian with that icy gaze. His eyes were bright with humor.

“I didn’t want to tell him that I’d handed her over to you.”

“Why?” Ian truly didn’t understand.

“And why did you allow me to take her?”

He shrugged.

“She belongs with you. I could tell that from the start. And a woman like Lily should not be locked away as a pawn in a game not of her making.”

Ian was impressed. The Viking was obviously much more intelligent than he let on.

“You were correct. Lily does belong with me, in the eyes of God, at least. We were married last night.”

“Good, good,” Siwardson said, nodding.

“Perhaps now Llywelyn will think twice about locking away the Dragon’s mate.”

“If you left before Llywelyn named me outlaw, how did you know about it?” Ian asked, puzzled. ” “Once it stops raining, I’ll show the source of my information.

You might be able to learn something of value from them, as well.”

“More men from Dolwyddelan?”

“Aye. Four of them. There were five, but one died,” Swen said in a matter-of-fact voice.

“I left them trussed up out there.” He motioned toward the forest beyond the cave.

“I didn’t feel like looking at them.”

Lily stirred within his arms.

“Are you getting warmer, sweeting?” Ian asked. He moved the blanket away from her face. Her skin was pale, except for the two spots of bright color riding high along her cheekbones. But she’d stopped shaking.

Her eyes drifted open.

“Did I hear Swen?” she asked, her voice husky with sleep.

“Aye,” Ian murmured near her ear.

She wriggled about, trying to escape the constricting folds of the blanket.

“We must go!” she cried.

“He’ll try to take you back to Llywelyn—” “Hush, ‘tis all right.”

She stared at Siwardson, clearly attempting to judge the threat he posed. But, as usual, the Viking just grinned.

She wouldn’t be able to tell much from that.

“Swen, do you swear you’re not here to take us back?”

she asked, her voice gaining strength with every word.

He nodded, hand over his heart.

“I have no intention of doing such a thing.”

“Then why are you here?” She sat up straight, not leaning her weight so heavily upon Ian. He tightened his arms about her, unwilling to release her just yet.