Sworn Loyalty - A Medieval Romance (8 page)

* * *

Mary blinked her eyes open, stretching in relaxed comfort. For the first time since the battle there wasn’t a throbbing pain in her leg; she relished the peace. She rolled on to her side, unsurprised to find Erik standing by the shutters, his eyes watching the road.

She wondered how hard it was for him to climb out of bed each morning, if he felt the same hollowness she did when their warmth was separated. Every morning she woke to find him gone, and he would not join her at night until after she had fallen asleep. And yet she sensed the moment his body was there against her – and she ached the moment he left.

She pitched her voice to be gentle, but she heard the note of longing which traced through her words. “Are you sure you won’t rest just a little while longer before we have to rise?”

He turned at that, eyes smoky, his gaze tracing along her hair, which hung loose about her face. “Better not to,” he murmured. He moved to the shelves, busying himself with gathering a loaf of bread, a small plate of butter, and a mug of ale.

He returned to sit cross-legged at her side. He waited patiently for her to prop herself up to sitting before handing over the items.

She leant back against the pillows, taking a bite of the bread, washing it down with the ale. A sense of loss swam through her. This was day seven. Would he insist on going his separate way?

Erik was carefully watching her. “What is wrong?”

She gave a wry smile. “I was starting to enjoy our little retreat,” she admitted.

He chuckled at that, leaning forward to brush a stray hair from her face. “You enjoy being waited on hand and foot?”

Her grin grew. “I definitely could get used to that,” she agreed. “Although having access to a roaring fire would be quite a treat.”

He raised an eyebrow in curiosity. “Oh? Tired of having to rely on my body heat to keep you warm?”

The thought of his lean length pressed against her coursed through her, creating a warmth wholly unrelated to skin temperature. “You were kind to turn yourself into a human heat rock,” she murmured hoarsely. “A noble sacrifice in payment for my efforts.”

His eyes grew serious at that. He took the mug from her, putting it to one side, before turning back to take her hand.

“There is nothing I could ever do which would repay you for your efforts,” he stated, his eyes holding hers. “When I was hanging in that dungeon, knowing that days of torture stretched out before me, I lost all hope. I began planning ways of charging the group as soon as I was free, so I would go down quickly. I saw no other way out. I had fully accepted my death.”

His eyes blazed with passion. “And then I looked through that grated window, and I saw your face. I had no doubt in my mind that you had come for me.”

She nodded, caught in his gaze. “Of course I came for you.”

He gave a low groan. “Even though I was not there for you when your village needed me?”

She ran her hand along the side of his face, and he trembled beneath her touch.

“The bandits were the guilty ones,” she murmured, caressing her fingers along the side of his neck. “I never lost faith in you. You have filled my thoughts, my dreams, and I could want no other.”

He groaned with desire, and it was as if some last internal dam had been breached. His lips lowered to meet hers.

Mary gasped. Electricity flooded through her body, rushing along every inch of skin. They had slept against each other every night, been in close proximity every day, and she had fought relentlessly against the longing which had called to her. Now an explosion had been unleashed.

It seemed they could not remove their clothing quickly enough, that the need to be cautious around their injuries only added to the heated torment.

And then they were free.

They tumbled and twined; cried out and reformed. For a long, glorious span of time all else was forgotten.

It was only when they were lying, exhausted, their limbs enmeshed, that he glanced down at her hands and chuckled. “We never even got your gloves off,” he gently teased.

She flushed, looking away, trying to draw her hands down beneath the covers.

He stilled then, carefully raising himself on one elbow, looking down at her. “I thought it was just the cold you were concerned with. It is more than that?”

She nodded, still unable to meet his gaze.

He ran a hand tenderly along her hair, gently turning her head to his. “You should never feel embarrassed before me; not about anything,” he murmured. “Not after what you have done for me.” His eyes glanced at her gloves, then back into her eyes. “Take your time. You will know when you are ready.”

He leant forward to kiss her on her forehead, then rolled to his feet. “But for now, we should get packed and ready to go.”

Mary’s heart thudded with an erratic beat. “Go?”

He gave her a wry smile. “You have been taking care of everything up until now, and have set quite a high bar for me. It is now my turn.” His eyes were quiet for a moment. “Unless you did have a plan from here?”

Her throat went dry. Her plan became nebulous at this point. The only way to know what Erik was truly like was to see what he would do when given free rein.

She was proud that her voice held steady. “If you have somewhere to go, I will be fine here.”

His gaze held hers. “Would you come with me?”

Her breath caught. “I would.”

He smiled then, pulling on his leggings. He buckled on his scabbard, sliding the sword in place.

A nervous tremor ran through her, and she fought to rein it in. “Where are we going?”

He turned back to face her. His eyes held a mix of emotions, and she could not quite name them.

“I think it is time I headed home.”

Chapter 5

 Mary was impressed; clearly Erik’s time in the Holy Land had taught him the value of efficiency. He had them packed and through the outer gates in less than a half hour. They would not be able to make it all the way to the keep before night fell, not with her injured leg, but they could at least get close. Then it would only be a short walk the following morning before they were safely behind the walls.

Mary gave her head a shake at the thought, drawing in a deep breath to forestall the rising tremor in her heart. She had planned for this as one possible outcome, and the keep’s staff would know what to do. They would claim the lady of the house was ill and could not be seen. It would give Mary a window of time to observe Erik in his home, to see how he acted, how he treated the men around him.

Mary winced. The burden of lying would mount on her shoulders, pressing down on her, until she became unable to –

Erik pulled to a stop at her side, looking down at her with concern. “What is it, Mary? Is it your leg?”

Mary looked down, keeping her gaze away from his insightful stare, running a hand along the bandaging. The leg was throbbing, it was true, but it came nowhere close to the turmoil that was gnarling in her heart. It was not natural to her, this deceit. Every ounce of her being called on her to simply reveal the truth, to explain the situation and hope he would understand.

She let out a long breath. “I will be fine,” she murmured.

He held his eyes on her for a long moment, as if trying to gauge her stamina, then he nodded. He slid an arm around her waist, gently supporting her, and they set in motion again along the narrow deer track. The woods were oak and maple, leafless in the winter chill, with dappled light sending golden streaks down between the bare branches. Her cloak was well crafted, keeping a layer of heat against her body, but the tip of her nose tingled with the cold.

They came up to a large, misshapen boulder of icy grey granite, and Erik turned left. “Ten years, and I know these woods as if I played in them yesterday,” he mused, half to himself. “This was my world. I thought I would live here forever, would raise my children and my children’s children ...”

Mary kept her gaze lowered, holding back a wry smile. At that same intersection she would have turned right, not left. Five years ago Erik’s mother had built a wooden bridge across the stream, creating an easier route through this pass. Erik was heading the long way ‘round, toward a natural ford. Erik had no way of knowing about the change, and given her current restrictions she had no choice but to follow silently at his side.

Her foot hooked on a root and she stumbled, cursing under her breath. Erik knelt at her side, his face creased with worry. “If there is somewhere you would rather go, I would do all in my power to get you there safely,” he offered.

She gave a sharp shake of the head. “I have nowhere else to go,” she stated. The truth of it pierced her to the core, just how much she was risking. If things went poorly, everything she had known and cared for could, once again, be ripped away from her.

Erik’s eyes were steady on her, and he nodded, drawing her back to her feet. They moved along in silence for a while, through moss and fallen trunks, past birch trees stripped of their bark by hungry deer.

The sun was nearing the horizon before Erik called for a break, drawing them into a shallow cave. He looked regretfully at the mouth before shaking his head. “Still can’t risk a fire,” he murmured. “There’s no guarantee that Josiah and his men aren’t roaming around, looking for a trace of us.” He gave an experimental twist of his torso, holding in a low groan. “And I am still not in any shape to properly defend us.”

Mary looked down, her face flushing. All throughout the day Erik had not made one sound of complaint, not all the times he had to half carry her when her leg gave out. She had almost forgotten that his injury was just as serious as hers.

“I am sorry –”

“No,” he said instantly, turning to face her. “Don’t ever be sorry. If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t be here. If I have to give my life to keep you safe, then I will do so gladly.”

Mary’s breath caught. For so long he had been a visceral presence in her life, a still center amidst a turmoil of emotion. Every day his honor had been disparaged as a source of anger and shame. She had tried to understand his mother’s fury, understand her sense of betrayal and jealousy. And yet every time she had gazed at that painting over the fireplace, all she could imagine was what it would be like to have that fierce loyalty protecting her.

And here he was, kneeling before her, his eyes steadily on hers.

She wasn’t sure if she leant forward, or if he did, but suddenly they were kissing, his lips firm and sure on hers, and her arms slid up around his back to pull him close. He put an arm out to lower her down onto the ground.

It was a long while before her breathing eased again.

She lay curled up against his chest, soaking in his warmth, when the thought came to her. He had said, even as he had been captured the final time by Caradoc’s men, that he still held out hope that Lynessa was innocent in all of it.

A shiver ran through her core. Despite all Lynessa had done to him, a thread still connected the two. Mary wondered if he would ever be free.

Chapter 6

Mary forced herself to take long, deep breaths as they came around the final bend toward the keep’s outer gates. It was only midday but she was already exhausted. Two days on the road had taxed her healing body more than she thought possible. She was grateful that only a short distance remained between her and the comfort of a warm fire. But it was the thought of the homecoming, and all it entailed, that tightened the muscles at her shoulders.

Erik’s stride was slowing as well, and she knew that this was just as difficult for him as it was for her, although for different reasons. To him, this was the home he had been exiled from, the family he had let down and deserted. He had turned his back on his mother’s love, all for Lynessa.

Mary shook her head. If only he could have seen his mother during his decade of absence. The woman might have snapped in anger, but it was clear that her heart was with her son. Lady Cartwright’s eyes had kindled with hope every time the main door of the hall swung open. The older woman would turn, seeking her son’s remorseful gaze, hoping against hope to hear his vow that he would put her above the trollop who had caused so much harm.

That day had never come.

Erik and Mary walked steadily up the road side by side. Mary fought to keep herself from folding her hand into his and lending him her strength. She knew this homecoming was something he needed to face on his own.

By the time they reached the main gates the wall was solidly lined with guards. A burly man with salt-and-pepper hair stood at the center, his leather armor embossed with a pair of crossed swords. Mary knew the family crest as well as she knew the feel of her sword in her grasp. It was emblazoned on the banners in the great hall, on the blankets in each room, on the carven back of the large oak chair at the center of the head table.

Erik’s gaze drew to the man, and it was a moment before he spoke. His voice was steady and even. “Michael. It has been a long time.”

Michael held his eyes, examining the man before him. Finally he nodded. “Ten years,” he stated quietly. “You have filled out.”

Erik drew his gaze down the line of men, each armed with crossbow or longbow, all weapons ready but undrawn. “Quite a contingent you have out today.”