THE WARLORD (11 page)

"Stop this nonsense, Tess." He tried to keep the anger from his voice. The arrow aimed at his chest did call for some diplomacy. But he couldn't help adding, "You will come home with me this instant!"

"You rejected me," Tess accused, tears spilling freely down her cheeks. "You do not want me for wife. You even brought your men to see my flaw so they can justify your claim when you petition for an annulment. I will not live a fortnight beyond my return to Remmington. The MacLeiths are not known for their forgiving nature. If I am lucky, I will not live a day. How can you send me back, knowing my fate?"

"Only yesterday I promised you would never return to Dunmore MacLeith," he reminded her, allowing Tess to see some of his anger. Did she really think him such a monster? "I did not reject you. My men will only testify to the king that my reasons for killing Gordon MacLeith are justified."

Tess didn't respond to that enlightening statement, but her eyes grew wider and her bow arm began to tremble noticeably.

"If you do not lower that bow soon, you will shoot me by accident." Kenric's horse pawed the ground and snorted, as if echoing the impatience of his master. Tess still hesitated. "A flesh wound will not improve my mood, wife."

"You… you would not trick me?" she asked, even as she slowly dropped her weapon.

Kenric spurred his horse forward. He leaped off the warhorse and grabbed his wife in one motion, his grip on her shoulders painful.

"You are
never
to run from me again," he shouted, so loud that Tess winced. "Is that clear enough for you?"

"Aye, husband," she said quietly. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling his head down to whisper in his ear. Kenric was so surprised by the unexpected action that he let her.
" 'Tis
a fact I have never swooned, but there is the oddest… ringing in my ears and…"

Her voice faded and she went limp. Kenric shook his head and lifted her into his arms.

"Sick with fever and you think to journey alone to
London," he muttered. "You are incredibly bold or incredibly ignorant. I do not think I have decided just yet."

"Have someone gather her things," he told Fitz Alan, nodding to the bundles still lying on the ground. "I am curious to see what other surprises she's packed."

Kenric mounted with little difficulty, shifting his limp burden to one shoulder as he gained the saddle.

"The mistake is understandable," Fitz Alan said.

"The mistake was idiotic," Kenric snapped. "She should have known I wouldn't send her back to those bastards."

"They've had five years to terrorize her," Fitz Alan said cautiously.
" 'Tis
doubtful she will forget that fear overnight."

Kenric didn't give any indication that he'd heard the words, but he took them to heart. He felt Tess stir in his arms and he pulled aside the cloak. Her eyes were still glassy, her face deathly pale. They stared at each other, each trying to read the other's thoughts. Tess finally broke the silence.

"Have you decided my punishment?" Her voice was flat, without emotion.

"Nay," Kenric replied. Tess looked as if she'd been through quite enough at the moment. An hour ago, he would have cheerfully beaten her.
But now?
Now he wasn't so sure. "What punishments have you received in the past for disobedience?"

"A week locked in my room," she said, her voice pitifully weak.
"On a diet of bread and water.
Sometimes a week to work in the kitchens, or the stables, or in the fields, or—"

"I understand," Kenric drawled.
His mouth quirked downward at the edges.
"These are the punishments you usually received from the MacLeiths?"

First she nodded,
then
she shook her head.
"Mostly the whip."

She closed her eyes, simply too tired to keep them open any longer. Tess felt a little guilty about relating such trivial punishments. She wouldn't mind any one of them. Given the way she was feeling, a week in her room… Nay, in Kenric's room… That sounded like heaven.

The next time Tess awoke she was surrounded by billowing golden clouds that floated in the deepest, truest blue sky she'd ever laid eyes on.

"Beautiful," she breathed in awe.
" 'Tis
just as I imagined."

"What is?" a deep voice asked.

She raised her arms, trying to embrace the lovely clouds.
"Heaven!"

Something cold and wet was slapped over her eyes, blinding her to the beautiful scene. She frowned and cried out "No!" as strong hands pushed her down, down, down, into a deep, black hole. She clutched at the air, trying to slow the fall, but she landed painlessly on something soft. Her eyes opened slowly to the blackness of the pit surrounding her. One by one
flames
flickered and rose up around her in a complete circle, so high and hot that she was certain her skin was on fire. Her body seemed made of stone, unable to rouse enough strength to attempt an escape from the inferno.

The faces of fiery demons took shape in the flames, demons exactly like the ones painted in the doomsday scenes in Kelso Abbey's chapel. With horned heads, bulbous eyes, and razor-sharp teeth, the creatures held Tess's full, horrified attention. The head of one monster curled away from the fire to loom over her, laughing down at her helplessness while his breath blasted her face with molten heat. Tess squeezed her eyes shut and screamed in mindless terror.

A pair of strong arms suddenly reached down and snatched her up and out of the pit. She feared the demon had her until she found enough courage to open her eyes, amazed to find herself in Kenric's arms.

Now where had he come from?

"Don't let me fall," she pleaded. She clutched at Kenric's arms and looked past his shoulder into the fiery pit looming below them, shuddering over the flames licking at the heels of Kenric's boots. "It was
awful
down there."

"I have you."

He kept talking, but his words seemed to blur and run together until they became a low hum, drifting to nothingness. Snatches of murmured conversations sometimes penetrated the edge of the silence, but the sounds evaporated again before they could leave a lasting impression. Time became as distant as reality. No past, no present, just the swirling colors of an unknown dream that lacked shape or substance. The void didn't fade away until the humming sound began again, growing louder and louder until Tess was forced to leave the empty dream. The hum became a voice, a bit familiar, yet she couldn't put a face to the sound as it droned on and on. Was that Latin he was speaking?

"A priest," she whispered, thinking she recognized his forlorn chant. A priest had been sent for, which meant someone was dying. She tried to open her eyes but couldn't accomplish the simple task. It took a moment to make the connection, to realize that
she
was the one dying! She began to cry, but stopped when she heard Kenric's voice bellow through the haze, his words perfectly clear.

"I'll not send for a priest!"

"But you must honor her request," someone answered. "She is dying."

"Tess is not dying. I will not allow it!"

Tess closed her eyes and let herself float away into the fog again, greatly relieved to know she wouldn't die. Aye, that was certainly a nice worry to set aside. Kenric would keep her safe. He would protect her. With her thoughts on Kenric, another strange dream began to take shape in her mind. She saw Kenric not as a grown man, but as a lad of no more than fifteen summers. He stood among a group of boys about the same age, yet he towered above them, his body already developing into the powerful warrior he would become. Standing in the center of the group, he faced a pock-faced boy with mousy brown hair. The two were arguing fiercely, and Tess strained to hear their words.

"You are a bastard," the boy sneered. "Your mother was nothing more than a whore who spread her legs for the king."

Kenric's fists were balled at his side, rage hardening the lines of his face, yet he made no move toward the taunting boy. The strain of his anger could be heard in the crack of lingering youth in his voice.

"You will take back those words and declare yourself a foul liar," Kenric demanded loudly. "Or I will kill you, Royce of Northton."

"Oh, ho," Royce laughed, his lip curling in disgust. "So the king's bastard would kill a man for speaking the truth. Well, I have news for you, Kenric of the King's

Whore. You could not do it." Royce turned confidently to his companions, looking for support. "Have you never wondered why seasoned warriors fall so easily against him in tourney? I trow the king's gold
eases
their falls, making his bastard look the better man."

"For God's sake, Royce," a boy called from the crowd. "You talk treason. Do not—"

"Shut up." Royce's eyes narrowed on Kenric. "I have waited a long time to see this bastard's blood soak my blade. He mocks us with every tournament he wins, making us look like foolish boys. Explain how we can beat him in practice when seasoned knights fall to him like old women in tourney?"

"Have you considered," Kenric asked between clenched teeth, "that I let you win?"

"Hah! You are the liar!" Royce shoved one hand against Kenric's shoulder, but Kenric turned his body to let the blow brush by. "You have shamed every honest knight with your cheating ways and need to die!"

Royce drew his sword, but Kenric was quicker, easily deflecting the ill-planned blow. The circle of boys widened, some yelling encouragement to Royce, others shouting in favor of Kenric.

Less than a dozen blows were exchanged before everyone realized the match was uneven. Royce fought like a demon while Kenric exerted little effort in his own defense. There was no need when holding Royce at arms' length proved such easy work. The knowledge that he was being toyed with and his inability to dent Kenric's easy defense drove Royce into a screaming fury, his sweaty face twisted now with hatred. Kenric wasn't even breathing hard.

The grating ring of metal striking metal continued until Kenric finally tired of the lesson and easily struck the sword from Royce's hand. The flat of his sword fell next against the boy's chest, knocking him to the ground,
then
the point of Kenric's sword was at Royce's throat.

"Thus it is proven." Kenric's voice was calm, his face devoid of emotion. "The matches won against me were to spare you this humiliation, Royce. Honor is everything to a knight, something I would never sacrifice to become one. My spurs were earned fairly this day and I have done nothing to deserve your foul slurs against my family." He pressed his sword a little harder against the boy's throat, all traces of indifference gone from his voice. "Now you will apologize."

"Go to hell, bastard."

Kenric stared at the fallen boy for a long moment, the disgust and temptation easily read in his expression. The sword finally lowered.

"Get up, you worthless worm." He slammed his sword into its sheath. "I'll not foul my blade with your blood."

Kenric turned on his heel and stalked away, the silent crowd moving aside to let him pass. He didn't realize he was in danger until someone called out a warning at the last moment. Kenric swung around an instant before Royce's sword would have found the back of his neck. Driven by instinct alone, Kenric's blade was drawn and driven upward into the chest of his attacker in one blur of movement. Royce was dead before he hit the ground.

The fog began to roll in and Tess struggled to keep Kenric in sight. He was looking around now, searching vainly for the woman who had called his name in warning.

"I am here, Kenric. Do you see me?"

"I see you just fine."

Tess struggled to brush away the fog, surprised to find
herself
in bed. Kenric was seated in a chair at her side, but this Kenric was older, the man she'd married.

"I saw you kill him," she whispered. Her hand found his in the twisted bedcovers, unconsciously seeking comfort. "I was so afraid."

Kenric's brows drew together in confusion as he absently squeezed her hand then straightened the sheets. "Who did you see me kill?"

"The boy who said those awful things."
Tess reached out to touch her husband's cheek, needing to reassure herself. His face was so familiar, comforting, as if she'd known him always. "You called him Royce."

Kenric's expression turned from surprise to anger. He stiffened noticeably. "Who told you of that?"

"No one.
I saw it in my dream just now. When Royce attacked your back, I called out your name to warn you. I was sure you heard me call to you."

Oh, he'd heard all right, Kenric thought grimly, remembering the day well. But Tess hadn't been there. One of the bystanders had called out the warning, his voice breaking in the excitement of the moment into a high, womanly screech. Yet Kenric also recalled how everyone had looked around in confusion when he wished to give thanks for the warning, each boy insisting he'd heard nothing. Aye, the excitement of the moment, Kenric had told himself. Everything had happened so quickly. He'd thought little more of the odd matter until this moment.

How did Tess know he'd heard a woman's voice?

He racked his memory, trying to remember what the voice had sounded like. The realization of what he was doing suddenly struck and he shook his head in disbelief. The very idea that Tess had called out a warning in her sleep just now to be heard nearly ten years ago was ludicrous. How could he even entertain such a notion?

Her delusions were the catching kind, he decided, frowning. The tale had probably spread like all the others Tess seemed to have knowledge of. Aye, that was all there was to the mystery. Another tale she'd heard somewhere, twisted by the fever into reality.

He lifted her hand from his knee and tucked it under the covers. She was asleep again, her brow still hot with fever. It had been two days since he'd carried her home and still there was no sign of a recovery. Sometimes she rested quietly, more often than not the delirium of her fever kept her in a tormented state somewhere between sleep and reality. At least she didn't appear to be getting any worse.

He still couldn't believe she'd tried to escape on foot, without even food for a journey of several weeks. She wouldn't have lasted the day. If he'd been thinking clearly that night, he wouldn't have left her alone. It was his responsibility to protect his wife, even from herself. He'd seriously underestimated Tess, expected instant loyalty and trust from a woman who'd known little of either in her own home. Still, she'd betrayed his trust and he would never give her an opportunity to do so again.

Kenric stood up and stretched muscles cramped by the long hours of his vigil. Trust was also the reason he refused to leave his wife's side during this ordeal. Tess was a threat to many at Montague, and there wasn't a servant within the fortress he'd trust with her life. More than one would rejoice if she succumbed to this fever.

Hoping he'd be able to sleep a few hours before her next nightmare took
hold,
he lay down next to Tess and wearily rubbed his eyes. She tried to move closer, and when she whimpered softly in her sleep, Kenric gently pulled her to his side. She felt right there. He couldn't seem to stop himself from trailing his fingertips along the smooth curve of her cheek, marveling at its softness. Her content expression didn't betray a hint of fear or hate, or the quick temper he didn't seem to mind. She looked so innocent and vulnerable when she
slept,
the urge to protect her was nearly overwhelming. Kenric didn't question that urge. Nay, it was his duty to protect those under his care. It was the tightness in his chest he found worrisome.

The rim of a cup pressed against Tess's lips, but she was allowed only a small sip before the cool water was pulled away. She opened her eyes to protest this latest cruelty, but instead gasped in wonder at the sight she beheld. An angel was sitting next to her bed!

Golden clouds surrounded the angel and a bright light shimmered all around, so bright that Tess couldn't see his face clearly. There was no need to ask the angel's identity, for that much seemed obvious. This was surely Saint Peter, and the bright light came from the gates of Heaven.

"I am not supposed to be here," she told the angel, smiling over his mistake.

"And why is that?" the angel asked.

"Because I am not going to die.
Kenric said so himself."

The angel didn't answer immediately. He was probably surprised by her knowledge. His next words confirmed her suspicion. "You were not supposed to hear that."

"Do not be so sad." Tess reached over to pat his hand sympathetically. "Friar Bennet says even angels are allowed to make mistakes."

"You think me an angel?" He sounded shocked by the idea.

"Well, of course," Tess said, pleased with her cleverness. "You are Saint Peter, and I am to tell you all about my life, then you will decide if I can pass through the gates of Heaven." She frowned. "But I don't think I should be here. I heard Kenric say quite clearly that I would not need a priest because I was not dying." Her eyes filled with tears and she began to cry again. "Perhaps I just imagined Kenric saying those words."

"You will not die." The angel brushed the tears from her cheeks and lifted her onto his lap. Her fears were soothed instantly within his safe embrace. "Why don't you tell me about your life while we wait for this mistake to be corrected? I would like to know more about you."