A Knight for Love (8 page)

“I would be pleased to make your acquaintance.” Warin spoke first. His
bland voice hid any emotion he might feel.

She smothered the impulse to laugh
. The greeting seemed better suited for the great hall, not a wilderness clearing where the music came not from minstrels but from birds.

“Alyna. Alyna Caperun. I told you that when
we first met, but you misunderstood.” She replied boldly, eager to prove she hadn’t deceived him willingly.

Warin nodded ruefully. “
True. You must forgive me, then, for your appearance did nothing to belie what I heard.” He glanced away. “And why didn’t you set me straight?”

She shrugged. “It should appear odd to find a lady, gently born and reared, lost and accompanied by none. Once you had the misconception it seemed prudent to leave you think I was Alan.”

“Did you not fear discovery?”

Alyna smiled slightly. “I hadn
’t thought of that.” She was relieved to see her hands had stopped shaking; she kept them close to the flames. Her clothing began to steam, wispy gray tendrils escaping from the fabric like the softest eider down.

“And the tale you told me? Of following your brother and the betrayal by your comrades? You spoke the truth?” His voice was suspicious.

“Aye,” she nodded. She hesitated before shyly adding, “I must thank you for your assistance. Doubtless I would sit there still if not for your care.”

He waved off her words. “
It was nothing.”

He lied, she thought, keenly aware of the anger beginning to show in the clipped tones.
She didn’t know what to say then for his growing hostility intimidated her.

“I am sorry,” she whispered
finally. “I meant no insult, I can only offer that the shock of my brother’s death….” Her voice trailed away. She could only stare at Warin. She longed to appease him, but she couldn’t offer an explanation if she didn’t know what angered him so.

And he was
clearly angry now. His eyes, narrowed slightly, were on her, mouth clenched and jaw set as if carved in stone. He locked his gaze with hers for what seemed like an eternity but in reality was mere seconds.

“I can overlook the fact you chose to remain as Alan for, as you say, the shock of your brother’s death tampered with your reason. However, for one who claims to be gently born and reared, you sadly lack in manners. To run from one who opened her home to you is unjust.”

Alyna’s cheeks flamed. He referred to Ada. She opened her mouth to reply, to remind him of the flowers she had brought Ada last night but Warin held up a hand, halting her.

“Furthermore, Alyna, the gift of life is precious. You, in your
foolhardy attempt to cross the river, risked not only your life but that of my horse as well as me.”

“I didn
’t ask to be rescued,” she flared. “Not two days past when you found me and not this morning. Your anger isn’t justified, Sir Warin.” She emphasized his name to indicate her contempt.

“Unlike you,” his contempt matched hers equally, “I value the human spirit.”

“Finely spoken for one just returned from the battle fields of the Holy Land.” Her taunt hit its mark for anguish flared in his eyes.

He sat silent for a moment, face motionless but for a muscle that twitched as he clenched and unclenched his jaw. Slowly he stood and turned away. His words, when they came, were controlled and edged with steel.

“A matter of which you know naught.”

“I – I am sorry,” she whispered, appalled at her
impudence for she knew memories of his time in Palestine pained him.

“Aye, as am I.”

She watched him walk towards Citadel, watched as he burrowed his face in that majestic neck. His last words had been cryptic and she puzzled over them. Sorry for what – for meeting her? For saving her life? Or mayhap he yet referred to his time on Crusade. Again she glimpsed a dark side to him. One that baffled her yet intrigued her nonetheless.

Minutes crept by before
Warin turned back to her, nostrils flared, eyes chips of ice. “As much as I want to, courtesy dictates I can’t leave you here alone. Once your clothing is dry, we’ll continue on our way.”

And then?
The unspoken question hovered on Alyna’s tongue. “I would be grateful if you could take me to the next village,” she offered hesitantly. “I don’t wish to be a burden to you any longer than is necessary.”

He nodded, once. “
I’ll take you as far as Paris. From there, you should be able to find a group travelling to England.”

Hi
s stony demeanor and harsh eyes frightened her. Shades of the despair she had felt over David’s death crept over her again. Doubt slithered in – could she trust him to keep her safe, even if only for a few days more?

Nonsense, she told herself firmly. If Warin wanted to do away with her, he would have done so already. Or let the river take her. He had pledged that he would
n’t leave her alone and he would keep his pledge. For that, she would repay him. How, she didn’t know, but she vowed she would.

Somehow.

*****

The sun shone brightly, driving away the rain and making their journey much easier as the mud
dy road dried. Wildflowers sprang to life and lined the road such that Alyna felt the pixies had sprinkled magic dust to guide their way.

Fanciful thoughts,
but at least they stopped her from dwelling on Warin.

R
iding pillion behind him placed her in closer proximity than she would have liked. Now that he knew her identity, for comfort’s sake she had loosened the bindings over her chest. Pressed up against him, her breasts rubbed against his back, a not unpleasant sensation but disconcerting on occasion as the blood would begin to pound in the apex between her legs.

They traveled several days in relative silence. She wondered at his thoughts, for conversation would have helped the time pass, but dared not ask. However, he was a considerate travelling companion, stopping frequently so she could stretch her legs
. Too, he was unfailingly polite though his pale blue eyes remained cold, fathomless, his mouth set firmly with nary the ghost of a smile.

The hunger that had constantly cramped her belly became a distant memory
. Warin proved proficient at hunting and so there was always a rabbit or squirrel spitted over the fire at night.

Too, Ada had been generous with her food. Dried fruit, black bread and goat cheese, along with several flasks of ale had been stuffed into Warin’s bags. Once, as they passed a sizeable walled town, Warin had bartered several peppercorns for a squab, a turnip, garlic and leeks and that night they feasted on stew.

It was while they sat eating the stewed squab that Warin spoke, a hint of excitement lining his voice.

“There is a joust tomorrow, in the meadow outside of the town.
I plan to participate.”

Alyna glanced at him
. After his prolonged silence, his comment struck her as odd. As if he asked for her approval. “It’s not my concern if you wish to joust or not.”

“
Do you wish to accompany me?” He dipped a chunk of black bread into the stew and stuffed it in his mouth before turning his gaze to her.

She swallowed a chunk of turnip. “Aye, jousting is a rare event. I
’d be honored to attend with you, only I fear I may embarrass you.” She gestured at her clothing. “What I wear isn’t seemly for a young woman.”

He
gazed at her, at the ill-fitting hose and tunic ragged at the edges. “Too much time away from the comfort of a castle has dulled my sensibilities,” he admitted wryly.

Alyna
wasn’t sure if that had been an apology, actually wasn’t sure about anything for the icy stranger of the past few days appeared to be melting. She suspected the same would happen soon to her heart.

“The jousting doesn
’t begin until the sun is high,” he continued without waiting for a response. “We’ll have time to find you suitable clothing.”

“But,” she lifted her hands to him. “How am I to pay?”

“It’s a gift.”

“
It’s not right for me to accept a gift from you,” she protested, dismayed and knowing she would be further beholden to him.

“
Not right? I think it’s past time to worry about what’s right or not right.” Laughter tinged his voice.

“Maybe it’s the thought of being in the company of gentle people that has reminded me of where and who I am.” She crossed her arms.

“
Don’t worry. No one knows us. I’ll introduce you as my sister.”

S
atisfied with his solution, he went back to the stew, spearing a wing from the cooking pot. He offered it to her and, when she declined, attacked it with relish.

She watched him eat, marveled at the change in him. The callous face of the past several days had come to life, anticipation light
ening his eyes and softening the stern mouth. Evidently the prospect of tomorrow’s joust had lifted his spirits, lifted the pensiveness that appeared to be his constant companion, lifted, even, the mantle of responsibility he carried for her.

Another thought struck her. “Warin?”

“Aye?” He regarded her through eyes half closed.

“How can you joust with no saddle and lance?”

He wiped his mouth on his sleeve before replying. “I intend to borrow them.”

“Borrow them?” she
asked dubiously. A precarious solution at best.

As if he could read her thoughts, he held up his hand to silence her. “Alyna,” he
responded, “don’t worry. I’ll share a portion of my winnings with the man who lends them to me.”

Questions churned through Alyna’s mind, st
arting with “How do you know you will win?” but she kept her doubts to herself. Who was she to examine Warin’s abilities on the jousting field?

Instead, she busied herself with setting to rights their little campsite
, trying to ignore the small bubble of excitement at the thought of watching Warin joust.

Trying too, to ignore the
matching bubble of fear at the thought of Warin being injured.

O
r worse, killed.

*****

Long after Alyna slept, Warin studied the stars piercing the blackness above him. The moon had not yet risen and campfires flickered in the dark forest, doubtless more participants in tomorrow’s festivities.

The idea of jousting tomorrow thrilled him
. The tournament would be the perfect antidote to the melancholy that had beset him since leaving Ada’s hut.

In truth, it had beset him since leaving the Holy Land.

Nay, it had been much longer than that.

Melancholy had beset him the day of the death of his parents and brother seven years previous, when he had been a young man of eighteen years. Their small holding had been the target of attack and he had not been there when it happened.

The guilt consumed him yet. If only he had
been home that day instead of going to the smithy to fetch his sword and shield. If only his family had come with him. If only he had come home sooner to lend aid in battle.

Instead, when he returned, he found a charred, smoldering pile of rubble and bloodied bodies strewn about.
To this day, he remembered the acrid stench of desolation and discarded dreams which never failed to bring forth a surge of nausea if he dwelled too long on it.

He’d left
England and never looked back. He didn’t know who lived there now, and didn’t care. That part of his life was over.

But not the guilt for failing his family when they needed him most.

His participation in the seventh Crusade was meant to be an absolution for him. Instead, he had come back with an even greater burden and the decision to change his life.

An owl hooted nearby, raising the hairs on his arms. A shiver ran down his back for it seemed as if the bird of prey shared Warin’s mood. He shook his head at the fanciful notion and funneled his thoughts t
o tomorrow and the impending joust. Anything not to brood on the past.

For a few brief hours, he
could concentrate on something else. It had been too long since he had felt Citadel thundering beneath him as he raced to face an opponent head on, too long since he had felt the satisfying crack of lance to body, too long since he had lifted his sword in jousting play. If he could earn some spoils, so much the better.

And you mean to serve the
Almighty by laying down your sword and entering a monastery? Yet you look forward to jousting?
He shoved away the ironic thought.

The truth was
, Alyna needed her own horse because it disturbed him to have her clinging to his back. It disturbed him to feel her softness jostling into him, to smell her sweetness, to hear her gasps of awe at the beauty of the land they rode through.

And the easiest way to get another horse was to win one in a tourney.