Vengeance 03 - Believe In Me (5 page)

She pulled the furs that had covered her onto
William. He would be chilled when she drew the fever out of him.

A wound as bad as this would take all the strength she had and then some.
Doubt filled her. She pushed it aside, certain that God would not have put this man in her path if she couldn’t help him.

Luckily, William
appeared to have succumbed to sleep; the fever had sapped his strength. That was for the best. She needed to focus all of her attention on the wound and she’d be better able to do so if he wasn’t watching her. Several deep breaths cleared her mind and a familiar feeling of peace came over her. Slowly, gently, she touched the area around the wound, pausing when William moaned with pain.

She glanced once more at the knight, but his eyes remained closed.
After shutting her own, she took one last breath and then pushed with her mind, shoving the heat out of William’s shoulder. She held it as long as she could, then released it. The heat rushed back in, reluctant to relinquish its grip. It was worse than she’d feared.

When an injury or illness was severe, she could not draw the pain into herself
immediately. The danger was too great. Her only choice was to push the pain out, forcing it to loosen its hold. Only then, when it had weakened, could she pull it into her own body.

How had he ridden all day on his horse, not to mention
helping her off that cliff face, with an injury such as this? Guilt filled her as she realized she was partly to blame.

She gathered herself again, determined
to gain the upper hand with his injury. Using her thoughts powered by all her strength, she pushed again and held the heat back even longer. Sweat beaded on her forehead as she wrestled with it.

Again the heat
returned, but not as strongly this time. She sat back on her heels, needing a few moments to regain her strength. ’Twas a fine line she had to tread with a severe injury, and a risky one at that.

Should she explain her intentions
to the knight in case the results were disastrous? Yet how could she explain what she barely understood? Nay, best to proceed and hope all turned out well.

She rose to her knees above William and placed both hands on either side of his wound.
She continued taking slow, deep breaths until that peaceful feeling returned. This time, she pulled the heat into herself and held it tight.

As though needing a place to be, the heat entered her, leaving but a wisp inside William
that she could feel. Relief swept through her, chased closely by a throbbing pain so intense, she could hardly breathe.

A whimper escaped her lips, but she bit back the moan.
The knight would be alarmed if he saw her like this. She had to hide it as quickly as possible.

William
stirred, his eyes opening and resting on her, his tiredness still apparent. “What is it, my lady?”

She knew she was pale and
shaking, but there was nothing she could do about it.

“Cristiana
? What’s wrong?” He sat up and drew her into his arms.

“I
am...fine,” she managed, pleased at the cool feel of his shoulder beneath her cheek. Rather than pull away as her mind told her she should, she took comfort in his strong arms, in the tender way he held her. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been held thusly.

“You’re trembling
,” he said as he drew her even tighter into his embrace.

Tears
filled her eyes at his concern. She couldn’t push away the swell of emotion coursing through her, not sure why she was reacting like this. He didn’t seem to understand what had happened. Or perhaps he didn’t remember it. She’d prefer the latter.

He lifted her chin
to study her face, his worry evident. “What’s amiss?”

The pain had faded, but the rush of emotions continued.
Unable to speak without sobbing, she shook her head.

His gaze dropped to her lips. What could she do but offer them to him?
Slowly, his lips covered hers, warm and gentle. Desire spread through her, causing her to quiver as her heart pounded. She reminded herself that these feelings were only because of her weakened state. Somehow his attentions seemed to aid her, giving her back a little of her strength.

He placed a hand alongside her cheek and turned her face to deepen the kiss. His tongue traced the seam of her lips, and she parted them in surprise. The intimacy of his kiss thrilled her. Heat spiraled through her
body until he became her entire world.

The sensation overwhelmed her,
frightening her with its intensity. She couldn’t afford to let this man have that kind of power over her, couldn’t let herself need anyone. No matter how difficult she found it, she had to stand alone.

S
he pulled back to look into his face. His intense gaze was too much. Exhaustion caught up with her; her limbs felt as though they were full of lead. Her mind numb, she lowered her gaze and spoke at last, “I am tired from...the journey. Please forgive me.”

With slow, careful movements, she lay down on the cold, hard ground
, weary from her efforts. Healing him provided a layer of intimacy between them, but that kiss...

She couldn’t complete the thought
. Her tired mind couldn’t begin to process what had just happened. As she closed her eyes, she felt him draw the fur over her.

Then she remembered nothing else.

***

William awoke at dawn as was customary for him.
Before he opened his eyes, he shifted onto his back and straightened his injured shoulder slowly as he had done the last few months, bracing for the pain. The past fortnight had involved many nights on the cold ground, and each morning was a struggle to ease the pain and tightness that crept in during the night. He moved his shoulder with care, preparing himself for the deep ache that followed.

But
felt nothing.

He froze, trying to remember what had happened and where he was.
He’d been feverish the night before and feared his shoulder was worsening—that much he knew.

O
pening his eyes, he raised his arm. A slight stiffness was all he felt. He touched his shoulder, trying to understand what miracle had befallen him.

His gaze caught
on the fur-covered form curled near his side visible in the light of dawn.

He was surprised she hadn’t found some way to escape during the night. His breath caught as he remembered waking up to find her pale and trembling beside him. The kiss they’d shared had been more than he’d expected, certainly more than he’d experienced with anyone before. He could clearly remember holding her with
both
arms.

What had she done to him?

The last thing he remembered
before their kiss was her kneeling above him, her hands pressed against him. His thoughts returned to the little girl who’d so miraculously recovered from her fall off the fence. Cristiana had no healing poultices with her, no herbs to apply, no strange tea to steep and force down his throat. What power did this woman have?

The abbess’ words came back to him, ‘Cristiana is special.’ Is that what she’d meant? He tried desperately to remember what else the nun had told him.
What had Cristiana said to him the previous night?

Was this...power, this...ability the reason
the bishop wanted her? Did he know of her skill?

He sat up,
and pushed back the tent flap to let in more light. With trepidation, he looked down at his shoulder. Gone was the angry wound. In its place was a puckered scar, small in size considering the width of the blade that had pierced him. He touched the area gingerly. A slight tenderness was all he felt, nothing compared to what he’d endured these past months.

Hell’s teeth! What magic had she performed?

He moved over to her and touched her shoulder. “Cristiana.”

She stirred briefly but
didn’t awaken.

“Cristiana. Tell me what you’ve done.” He needed an explanation.

She moaned and tried to open eyes that seemed weighted down. “What is it?” she muttered.

“What did you do?”

Wariness dawned on her expression as she lay there looking at him. Disappointment fell over her face before she masked it. “What do you mean?”

So well did she
hide her reaction, that for a brief moment, he believed her. He shook his head to clear his mind. “You had best give me an explanation.”

The image of calmness, she raised her brow.
“An explanation for what? I fear you are making no sense, Sir William.”

William stared at her, trying to rein in his reeling emotions. He’d been on the verge of thinking himself permanently maimed
from his damned injury only to wake to find it gone.

He hadn’t realized how much his wound had changed his whole attitude, his very belief in himself.

Or rather, his doubt in himself.

“I want to know what you did and how you did it. I deserve to know.”

She frowned, as though he spoke a language she didn’t understand. “You had a fever last night. It seems to have addled your brain.” She sat up and pushed off the fur then rose, nearly losing her balance before stepping out of the tent. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to see to a personal matter.”

“Cristiana! Wait!” William
stood and found himself wincing in anticipation of his shoulder. But nothing happened. Nothing but a twinge that could be blamed on sleeping on the cold, hard ground. “Damn.”

Before she could flee into the woods never to be seen again, he caught her arm.
She seemed to be only a shadow of her radiant self this morn. Shadows marked her eyes, her posture less than perfect as though weighted down by some unseen force.

“Leave me be,
” she demanded.

“Do you have any idea how many times you’ve said that to me since we met?”

“Not enough apparently, for you still will not heed my request.”

“I want an answer.”

The flicker of hurt passed over her face so quickly, he wasn’t certain he’d seen it. “I have none. Seek your answer elsewhere.”

“Nay.
The answer lies in you.”

She
held his gaze for a long moment as though searching for something. Somehow he knew she found him lacking. She shook her head, sighing as she turned away. “I will wake Sister Mawde so we can be on our way.”

“This is not over,” he warned her. “We will speak of this again.”

She didn’t respond.

Bishop Thomas Duval gestured impatiently to Father Daniel to cover the letter he’d been transcribing as Abbot Clarke strode into his chamber. He did not want the abbot to discern the contents of the correspondence. Clarke’s lack of respect for his privacy was extremely annoying.

“Good day to you, Thomas. Father Daniel,
” Abbot Clarke said, his cheery smile in place as always.

“To what do I owe this
unexpected
visit this morn?” Thomas asked, making little attempt to hide his displeasure. “Father Daniel and I are in the middle of an important letter. What petty grievance do you wish to bother me with?”

The abbot
refused to send a message to announce his visits. That alone annoyed Thomas but was only one of the reasons the man was a constant thorn in Thomas’s side. Clarke took his desire to do good deeds too far—at the cost of the plans Thomas had for the church.

The
abbey that Clarke oversaw sat just outside Longsbury. It was Thomas’s poor luck that the abbot was such an excellent steward of the land the abbey controlled. Getting rid of him would prove much easier if he failed his duties.

“Mayhap I’ve come to inquire about your health,” the abbot
suggested.

Thomas stilled
as worry filled him. “Why? I am in perfect health.”

“Have you no sense of humor this fine day?” Clarke shook his head. “In truth I do have a matter to discuss.”

“As I expected.” Thomas relaxed and gestured for Father Daniel to leave them. As the door closed behind the priest who served as his clerk, Thomas studied the abbot. Clarke stood before his desk, his posture erect, his hands tucked inside the pockets of his black robe.

Thomas
had always thought him better suited for his former life as a knight. His tall form, broad shoulders, and brawny body spoke of vigor that would serve him well on the jousting lists. Why he’d given up a life of winning tournaments and moved to one devoted to God remained a mystery.

When he’d first met Clarke, Thomas had thought the abbot
had hidden himself away in the abbey to hide from people. The wine-colored birthmark that covered all of one eye and most of his cheek would’ve made Thomas hide himself to avoid the stares and ridicule that surely accompanied it.

Much to Thomas’s bewilderment, t
he mark didn’t seem to bother Abbot Clarke. The calm and pleasant expression on his face suggested an inner peace that Thomas did not understand. In truth, it made him uncomfortable.

“What is it you want?”
he asked, not bothering to hide his annoyance.

“I came to speak with you regarding the offerings for the poor.”
His glance caught on the documents on Thomas’s desk.

Confident the abbot could not discern
the purpose of the letter Father Daniel had been transcribing, Thomas leaned back in his chair, his fingers rubbing the ornate carving of a roaring lion on the arm. “The offering we gave was more than sufficient.”

“Many are still in need,” Clarke argued.

“The harvest was plentiful. Those in need should’ve worked harder to earn their share of it.”

“Not everyone is able-bodied enough to do so.
The knot of beggars outside both the abbey and the church grows each day.”

“Pah.” Thomas waved a hand in dismissal. “Giving too much only encourages them to work less. They become dependent
upon our handouts.”

“I realize
you are directing the income you receive to your renovations on the cathedral,
but—”

“The expansion of the cathedral will benefit all.”

“But mostly you,” Clarke argued, the knowing look in his eye making Thomas shift in his chair.

“A larger cathedral will draw more revenues, and we will reach more people.” Thomas shook his head. They had already had similar discussions, and he well knew Clarke would never see his side of the issue. Still, his plans would proceed more smoothly if the abbot agreed with his desire to expand the cathedral.

He used the one argument he knew would appeal to Clarke. “Think of how many we can help.”

Clarke tilted his head to the side, studying Thomas as though finding him odd. Thomas did not appreciate it.

“How can we care for
additional souls if we can’t help those in need now? More isn’t the answer,” Clarke argued.

But ‘more’
was what Thomas wanted.

More
prestige. More power. More wealth.

More of everything.

He knew his greed was a sin, but he comforted himself with the knowledge that others would benefit as well.
Most of his life, he’d lived without. He remembered what it was like to go to sleep at night with hunger burning in his belly, with shivers from the cold rattling his teeth. Being of noble birth did not guarantee well being. His father had squandered their meager wealth and lands and his childhood had consisted of cycles of feast and famine with the feasts being few and far between.

Those
painful memories drove him. He pitied any who had suffered as he, but also realized he was a better man for having survived it. Others could do the same, and they would become stronger for it as well.

After all these years of h
ard work and humbling himself, he’d found the key to his future. How ironic that it—or rather she—had been under his nose all along.

He pushed away
his anger at the years he’d wasted. If he’d known earlier, life might have been easier. But in truth, now was the perfect time for Cristiana to join him.

She
should arrive on the morrow at the latest. Just the thought of the possibilities her gift would bring him brought a smile to his lips and lightened his mood.

Glory would be his at last.
Waiting for it this long would make it taste even sweeter.

“Is that
new?” Abbot Clark asked, pointing to the heavy gold ring on Thomas’s finger. It bore a crosier, a pastoral staff symbol, with a ruby in the center.

“Aye,” Thomas said
. “A pity my previous one has not been found.”

“Rather disturbing to think you might have a thief under your roof, isn’t it?”

“The thief appears to have been someone passing through,” Thomas said with a scowl. He had his suspicions of who had taken his ring, but it no longer mattered. That loose end had been taken care of; she would bother him no more.

Besides, he thought as he studied the deep red jewel, he liked this one better than his last.

“What a relief.” Clarke’s bland expression made it difficult to tell if sarcasm colored his tone.

Thomas
debated telling him about Cristiana and her unique talent. Nay, he decided. He wanted to test her and the extent of her ability before he shared it with anyone. He’d let Abbot Clarke witness Cristiana’s skills for himself. Then at last, the abbot and everyone else would realize how brilliant he was for bringing her to Longsbury under his guardianship.

Knowing what the coming days and weeks would bring, he could
afford to be generous.

“I will see to it that the handouts are increased.”

The surprise on the abbot’s face gave Thomas a bit of pleasure. He didn’t want to become too predictable by denying every request with which the abbot came to him.

“Thank you, Thomas. We will do our part at the
abbey as well.”

“I’m certain you will. Now I’m afraid I must return to my correspondence. I’m
dictating a rather important letter.” He was inviting the archbishop to visit Longsbury and view the construction himself. By the time he arrived, his plan for Cristiana would be well under way.

“Of course.
My apologies for the interruption.” Though the words were said with sincerity, there was something in the abbot’s smile that belied the apology. “Shall I send Father Daniel back in?”

“Aye.”
Never mind, Thomas decided. Soon, there would be nothing but respect and admiration in the abbot’s face. That would be a welcome sight indeed.

***

“I still don’t understand how that could be possible.” Henry shook his head, his voice low as he rode beside William.

“Nor I, though I’ve heard of such things
from my mother. She too is a healer, but not like Cristiana.” William looked back at the lady in question. Shadows marked her eyes, and her usual determination seemed to have dimmed. Healing him had taken a toll on her.

“I’m
surprised she appears so normal. She should carry some sort of mark upon her forehead or something to warn others.”

William glanced at Henry, shocked at his comment.
Was that what he thought of his brother? Nicholas hid his second sight when he could, and William was certain Cristiana did the same.

“I only jest, William,” Henry said. “You should know me better than that.”

With a scowl, he thought of his own reaction when he’d realized what she’d done. Suspicion had come quickly. Too quickly. He of all people should better understand her and her gift. Had watching Nicholas deal with his second sight all these years taught him nothing?

“How do you feel now?”
Henry asked.

“
Much improved.” He straightened, easing back his shoulders. “In truth, my shoulder feels even better than this morn.”

“I
for one am thankful to her for your recovery. That damned injury seemed to be worsening instead of improving.”

“It was.
Much worse. A fever struck last night. I fear you would’ve had to leave me behind if Cristiana hadn’t healed me.”

“
She looks worn out this morn.”

“It seems that using her gift makes her tired. We may need to shorten our day so she can rest,” William advised him. Now
at last he understood what the abbess had told him. The lady was special indeed.

His memory of the previous night was unclear. Perhaps the fever had addled his brain
as Cristiana had said, but he was certain they’d kissed. And it had been no ordinary kiss. In all honesty, he wanted a chance to repeat the experience.

He frowned
as he realized that was a terrible idea. If he gained empathy for the lady, he would want to aid her. And if he aided her, he would be breaking his word to the bishop. All in all, that would be most unwise.

“She’s
certainly beautiful.” Henry’s quiet words echoed William’s thoughts.

“I suppose
.” William kept his tone noncommittal, knowing his friend would latch on to the slightest nuance and he’d spend the rest of this journey denying an attraction to her.

Henry
’s brows rose in disbelief. “I can’t believe you haven’t noticed.”

“Let’s just say I think it
ill-advised to get involved. We will part ways in a few days.”

“All the more reason to enjoy
her company while you can,” Henry suggested with a smile. “How often do you get to spend time with a lady such as she?”

Temptation filled William but he held his silence.

“Did you not recently learn how short life is?” Henry asked.

“
Indeed. Life gives us unexpected turns.” He’d had more than his fair share.

“All I am saying is that you should enjoy the moment.”

With a smile, William looked at his friend. “Your advice is wise but in this case, her relationship with the bishop changes everything.”

“No wonder the bishop wants her.
It almost makes me feel sorry for her.”

“Being with the bishop might give her protection.
He should be better able to understand her gift than anyone,” William argued.

“William, I think you let the color of the man’s robes cloud your thinking. Next time we see him, look at him as a man and nothing more. Then see whether the lady is better off with him.”

“You are jaded. You’ve lost your faith in the good people can do.”

“We shall see, William. We shall see.”

Before William could say more, Sister Mawde rode between them. “We must rest for a spell. Lady Cristiana is weary.”

“There’s a meadow with a small stream ahead. We’ll stop there for a time,” William advised her.

He thought it more likely that the nun was the one who wanted to stop. Again. At this rate, they’d be lucky to make Longsbury in a fortnight. He glanced back at Cristiana and immediately felt guilty. Her shoulders slumped and her eyes were downcast.

All because of him.

Why had she sacrificed so much to heal him? He was virtually a stranger to her. Yet she had done the same thing for that little girl at the fair. Her actions befuddled him, but he hesitated to delve too deeply into finding out more. The lady already drew him far too much. He had to maintain his distance if he wanted to keep his word to the bishop.

They soon arrived at the clearing
, and William dismounted so he could aid Cristiana.