Joanna Davis - Knights In Shining Armor (9 page)

              There as no hope for it, she had to try.

              She told herself that they would be fine as soon as they got to the shore.

**********

              Sunrise had come and gone with no sign of her. The men were ready to drop where they stood, but none dared to breath a word to Rowan- he'd been like a caged bear since the girl had gone missing. Kenneth had dared to ask why Emeline had run off only to find a sword pointed at his chest. After that, they'd all left their Lord alone.

              At least they could see now. Surely it would easier. Unless she'd fallen, or been taken. Dear god, what if some man had come upon her out here alone? Or men? She wouldn't stand a chance against them.

              Panic made him redouble his efforts. He was plunging through the snow when he heard the shout. Sweet hope pierced his chest.

              They'd found her.

              Wyeth was walking along the shore with a bundle in his arms. His face was grim. Behind him came Kenneth with yet another bundle. It moved and he saw a strange white face peering out from under a blanket.

              Bessie.

              Of course. She'd taken the goat.

              The blanket of snow was thinner on the beach, allowing him to run. He met Wyeth and took her limp body from his arms. The older man's face was sorrowful as he handed her over.

              "She's alive. But barely."

              Relief washed through him like a wave. But it was short lived. The girl in his arms was blue and trembling. He had to get her inside, right away. He forced himself to slow his pace to a trot as he hastened back to the castle tunnel. It would not do to drop her. Not now.

Seven

              Magda and Rowan kept vigil by Emeline's bedside all day and into the night. They warmed her up with a raging fire in the tower chambers hearth, even allowing the goat to sleep by her side.

              The goat had recovered quickly from their ordeal.

              Emeline had not.

              Rowan was dozing in a chair by her side, having sent the old woman to bed. They'd all been up nearly 48 hours now and Magda had been tottering on her feet. He'd need her when Emeline awoke. And she would wake. She had to. He didn't care anymore that she had been a frivolous young girl who'd broken his heart. She'd more than paid for it from what Magda had told her as they sat and watched over her.

              Her story had wrenched at his heart. When the old Lord Fairhaven had fallen ill on his wedding night, he hadn't given up  hope for an heir. Night after night he'd called her to his bedside, bade her undress, and made her stand there for an hour or more, shivering in the cold, until he conceded that his ailing body would not cooperate on that particular night.

              Sometimes he'd beaten her. Other times he'd locked her in her chamber without food or water for days. She'd run away many times, only to be hauled back and punished by the guards, since her husband was too weak to do it properly.

              Rowan was barely sleeping, too many thoughts competing for attention in his mind. He knew he'd have to make Emeline understand that she was not to run away again. Especially not now that he intended to wed her. But he'd have to be gentle about it.

              Gentle but firm.

              A murmuring woke him. It was Emeline. He leaned over her to see that her eyes were still closed. She was tossing and turning, mumbling in her sleep.

              Damn.

              Not awake then.

              "Emeline! Emeline!"

              He reached out to touch her and was shocked by the blast of heat her body was giving off. He laid his hand across her forehead. From freezing to this… delirium. Even the little goat looked concerned, nuzzling her neck with her snout.

              Rowan nudged the animal off the bed and turned back to Emeline. He'd need cool cloths… what else? He needed Magda. He shouted down the stairs for the old woman and hastened back to the bed. He noticed Emeline touching her throat again and again.

              The minutes ticked by painfully as he tried to gently pull her hands from her throat. But she would not be gainsaid, her hands constantly seeking and grasping.

              "What is it sweeting? Are you thirsty, my love?"

              "She's after her necklace. I've never seen her without the damn thing. She worries it when she's a'feared."

              He turned to see Magda standing behind him. She hadn't gotten more than a few hours of sleep but she did not complain. The old woman loved Emeline too.

             
Loved.

              It was time he admitted the truth to himself. He loved her. Emeline might not have loved him enough to stay and wed him all those years ago, but she did care for him. He was sure of it. He'd
make
her love him. As soon as she woke up.

              "What sort of necklace?"

              "It was a plain ring on a simple gold chain. Nothing compared to the jewels she wore for formal events. She hasn't been wearing it lately. I'd been meaning to ask her why."

              Rowan knew why she'd hidden the necklace. It was from a man. It must be.

              Jealousy blossomed in his chest, hot and painful. But she had been an innocent…  perhaps she had another in her heart at one time. It didn't matter truly. He was the only one who had known her intimately.

              She had to wake up so she could tell him that he was the only one… so he could tell her the same.

              "I'll stoke up the fire and send for more water. We need to bathe her to get the fever down. And birch bark tea will help."

              He nodded, staring at the beautiful girl lying in a pool of her own sweat.

              "Sweet Jesu, speak of the devil."

              He turned and watched as Madga pulled something from the fire with the tongs.

              "Here it is!"

              She held it up and his breath caught. He stood, took one step, and another. It couldn't be… but it was.

              It was his ring. The one he'd given to Emeline when he asked her to wed with him. The plain gold band that had belonged to his mother. He could see the simple swirl that had been etched into the exterior from where he stood.

1328

              He stared at the beautiful girl he'd just asked to marry him. In truth, he'd asked her to wait for him until he was able to marry her. He had no idea of what answer she would give him but he'd had to risk it before he left for battle. He was reaching too high and he knew it. But Lady Emeline never made him feel that way.

              She was staring at the simple gold ring he held with a look that he could not read. She was surprised to be sure… was that a hint of pleasure lighting up her eyes? He knew she had dozens of rings a hundred times more costly. He vowed that he would give her something to surpass them all one day. If only she'd say yes.

              It had been weeks since they'd seen each other. His training had prevented him coming to her on their regular day.

              Sundays. The soldiers day of rest. But they were preparing for war with the Scots so that small freedom had been withdrawn. They were leaving soon and he was given just a half day to tend to his affairs. Thank the heavens that she had come every Sunday just in case.

              Faithfully.

              She lifted her eyes to his at last. He marveled at the love he saw shining there.

              "Will you wait for me Emeline? I swear that I will find a way to support you."

              She smiled at him and laid her hand on his cheek.

              "Yes Rowan. I will."

              He felt himself grow taller and stronger. She did that to him. He knew he could do anything in that moment. He'd made this beautiful, perfect girl love him. By God, he had.

              He slid the ring onto her finger and smiled at her. She looked serious as he pulled her into his arms. He tilted her chin up and luxuriated in the moment where he knew he would kiss her. Finally with a sigh they came together, lips pressing lips, his hands on her lower back. He longed to yank her against him but he feared his growing arousal would frighten her.

              There was time enough for that when they were wed.

              He lifted his face so he could memorize the beauty in his arms. He wanted to recall her face every night on the long march ahead and every time he lifted his sword in battle. He brushed his thumb over her soft cheek and smiled, still unable to believe his own good fortune.

              He wouldn't see her again for six years.

1335

              "Give it to me. It's mine."

              "Careful my lord! It's hot!"

              He cursed and dropped the ring on the floor. Madga was giving him an odd look.

              "You're the one? The one she waited for all those years to come and save her?"

              He said nothing, just held his hand where he'd singed his palm. She'd kept his ring. She'd worn his ring. She'd waited for him after all. He glanced at the bed. Emeline had grown still again. He rushed to her side. She was still hot but her breathing was steady.

              "Go and get the water. And get that goat out of here. It's starting to stink."

              "Aye,
my lord
."

              He sat on the edge of the bed and picked up Emeline's hand. The old woman was angry with him. Not that he blamed her. He was a ten times a fool for not knowing that she'd been true to him, at least partially. He'd known she loved him true all those years ago. She may not have kept her word, but she had kept him in her heart.

              And he'd hated her for it.

              So much time wasted on blaming her for something that she too had regretted. So many years spent throwing himself into danger, trying to prove something to himself.

             
To prove himself worth of her.

              He stroked her damp hair off her forehead. Her face was flushed. And yet she looked lovely still. Too lovely to be real. Certainly too lovely for a poor boy such as him.

              But he was not a poor boy any longer. He could take care of her now. He would protect her, no matter if she wanted him to or not. He feared her reaction when she woke. If she truly believed he would have passed her off to his soldiers like a sack of grain then there's no telling how she would feel about him.

              There was a chance she might not love him anymore.

              He wouldn't blame her if that was true.

              But even still, he would not let her leave him.

              She was his now. That was all that mattered.

**********

              Thirsty.

              Emeline tossed on the bed, unable to get comfortable. She was soaking wet but her mouth was dry. Why could she not slake her terrible thirst?

              It was too hot a day to be lying in the sun. She lifted her hand to shield her eyes from the bright light.

              "Be still."

              It was him.

              Rowan was there, commanding her in a harsh voice. Would he be cruel to her? Or tender? She never knew when it came to him. She still wasn't sure which she feared the most… his cruelty, which left her feeling as if a boot had been applied to her stomach, or his kindness, which made her care for him.

              Too much.

              "Please…"

              "What Emeline? Do you want water? I'm here love…"

              So he was being kind today. She tried to lift her head but found it was too heavy. He helped her and held water to her lips. The cool water tasted heavenly as it soothed her lips and throat.

              Too soon it was gone and the heat and thirst remained.

              "More…"

              "I'm sorry sweeting. Magda says we must only give you a bit at a time or you will be sick. Lay back now… that's it."

              She moaned and tore at her clothes. He cursed above her and she felt her hands and ankles being tied, spread flat on the bed. She tried to protest but no words came out.

              His hand was back on her hair, with a cool cloth applied to her forehead. Methodically he rubbed the cloth over her body, soothing and cooling her.

              She tried to look at him, to thank him for shielding her from the sun but her eyelids would not stay open. She felt herself drifting away from him. Away from the light…

             
Darkness.

**********

              Rowan's head lifted from his knee in confusion. His eyes took in his surroundings; a round room with a fire crackling in the hearth. A bed with a slender form upon it.

             
Where was he?

              The shape on the bed moved and he saw her at last.

              Huge green eyes stared at him from underneath a mop of tousled dark hair.

              Emeline.