Midnight Warrior (31 page)

“What’s wrong?” Gage asked. “Isn’t this the place?”

“Yes.” She couldn’t be mistaken. “I just thought it was bigger.”

“Everything is bigger to children.” Gage turned to Malik. “I don’t how long we’ll have to be here. See if you can find a roof to shelter us for a change. It’s damned cold along this shore.”

“What are you going to do?” Malik asked.

“What I do best. Barter.” He kicked his horse into a trot. “I want to catch those fishermen before they set sail and not dawdle here until they return at sunset.”

Dawdle? Gage didn’t know the meaning of the word, Brynn thought ruefully. He was always in motion, always restless. It only underscored the depth of his affection for Malik that he had been willing to suffer those weeks of inactivity when she had been fighting to save the Saracen.

“Come along,” Malik said. “We’ll get you women out of this sharp wind. Adwen looks blue with cold.”

“Thank you,” Adwen said with sarcasm. “But I’m not suffering. It’s you who I’ve noticed shivering and quaking like a leaf in the wind.”

He looked pained. “You always pay heed to the bad things. Did you notice what a fine seat I have on this steed? Or how keen my wit? No, just that I’m vulnerable to cold. We do not have these hideous north winds where I was born.”

Adwen lowered her lashes to veil her eyes. “I’m glad you explained. Then I’ll no longer condemn you for your softness.”

“Softness?” Outraged, he said, “There’s no softness in—”

“Adwen may not be cold, but I am,” Brynn interrupted. The badinage between them always amused her, and she had been tempted to let it continue, but she was too tired. Both her emotional response to Kythe and the long journey here had drained her. “And I need sleep.”

“At once,” Malik said. He waved his arm at LeFont, and they started toward the village.

The villagers proved to be extremely suspicious and
not receptive to bargaining. It took the better part of an hour for Malik to accomplish his mission. He was scowling when he strode back to where he had left Brynn and Adwen. “Gage is not going to be pleased if the menfolk are as canny at bartering as their wives. I managed to get the use of only five of the houses and then at great price. I’m surprised they didn’t take the beard from my face.” He nodded at a small house facing the beach. “Quarters for you and Gage, Brynn.” He turned to Adwen. “Alice and you will occupy the house next door and LeFont and the rest of the men will crowd into the remaining three houses.”

“And where do you sleep?” Adwen asked.

“On your doorstep.”

“What?”

“There’s no other way to prove that I am no weakling.” He struck a heroic pose. “I will curl up on your doorstep and face the cold while I protect you from all harm.” He added morosely, “Even though I will probably suffer a grievous chill that will take me away from this earthly plane.”

Adwen snorted. “I give you two hours on that doorstep.”

“You will see.” Malik drew his cloak closer about him and started toward LeFont. “Now go inside and warm yourself while I see to the business of settling everyone comfortably on this forlorn shore.” He sighed. “Everyone but me.”

Adwen stared after him with a frown. “Will he really do that?”

“It wouldn’t surprise me,” Brynn answered.

“Well, stop him,” Adwen said. “He’s been ill. It would not be good for him.”

“He’s not ill now. He’s as strong as he ever was.”

“It’s still foolish. Tell him not to do it.”

“Why don’t you?”

“Because that’s what he wants me to do. He wants
me to tell him I think he’s strong as a bull and need not prove anything to me. Well, I won’t do it.”

“Why not?”

“Because he takes advantage of every—I just won’t!” Adwen called Alice, who was talking to LeFont. “Alice, come, we have shelter.” She looked defiantly at Malik. “And I’m sure there will be a warm, cozy fire.”

“I’m sure also,” Malik said mournfully.

Adwen muttered something beneath her breath and stalked toward the cottage.

“Is she angry?” Alice asked as she reached Brynn.

Brynn shrugged. “I have no idea.” The relationship between Malik and Adwen was complex, and she was never sure from minute to minute what the two were feeling. “Why don’t you ask her?”

“She probably won’t tell me. She doesn’t talk about Malik.” A blast of wind buffeted them, and Alice shivered and hurried toward the cottage.

Alice’s body was rounding more each day, Brynn noticed. She was glowing with health and the trip seemed to have invigorated rather than taxed her. More, Alice seemed to carry herself with a pride that had never been present during all those years when she had served Adwen. Now the two women were friends rather than servant and mistress, and both had benefitted from the change.

She glanced down at the beach, where Gage sat on an overturned fishing boat, talking to a little group of villagers gathered around him. He was gesturing, smiling a little as he sought to persuade and cajole. His hair shone jet black, not auburn, on this dreary day and blew wild and free in the wind. If it was cold here in the shelter afforded by the row of cottages, the wind must be knife-sharp down there by the water. When Gage came back he would be chilled to the bone and, if Malik was correct, that return would probably not be anytime soon.

Well, she could do nothing for Gage by standing there in the cold, worrying. She moved quickly toward the cottage Malik had designated.

Gage did not return from the beach until after darkness had fallen.

Brynn was standing on the hearth and looked up when he came in the door. “You look terrible. Close that door and come to the fire.”

It was no lie. Gage’s cheeks appeared chapped and there were lines of exhaustion engraved beside his mouth.

“Fire? What is that?” His lips curved mockingly as he crossed the room and held out his hands to the blaze. He closed his eyes as the heat struck him. “Ah, I remember now.”

She unfastened his cloak and laid it on the chair. “Take off your armor.”

“In a moment.”

“Now. You’re so tired, you look as if you could fall asleep at any moment. I don’t want to have to pull and tug that heavy mail to get it off you, then.”

“Shrew.” He fumbled at the leather buckles. “My fingers feel as though they’re made of wood.”

“Stand still.” She rose on tiptoe and unfastened the mail at his shoulders and then undid the other buckles. “Now take it off and the rest of your clothes, too, while I go have the water brought.”

“Water?”

“For your bath. LeFont has had his soldiers heating water in readiness for the past hour.”

He looked at her oddly. “How kind of LeFont. I’ve never known him to be so solicitous of my comfort before.”

“When you’re unclothed, get in there.” She nodded at a shallow wooden barrel she had scrounged from the villagers. “It will probably smell of wine, but it’s the
only thing I could find to use. When I mentioned bathing, the women looked at me as if I were mad.”

“Wine is better than the odor of fish I’ve been smelling all day.”

She wrinkled her nose. “You seem to have acquired it,” she said as she opened the door.

When she returned he was sitting in the small tub, frowning with annoyance. “Let’s get this over,” he said impatiently. “I’m stiff. I’m cold. And I have grave doubts of ever getting out of this tub. I think I’m stuck.”

“We can always chop the wood away from around you.” She motioned to the two soldiers following her, bearing steaming buckets of water.

Four buckets of hot water and a quarter hour later Gage leaned back in the tub with a sigh of contentment.

“Warmer?” Brynn soaped his broad back and then rinsed him.

“Yes. I was beginning to doubt if it would ever happen. By God, that wind was cold.”

“You should be accustomed to cold. Isn’t Norway a cold land?”

“Yes, but it’s been a long time since I was in Norway. Byzantium is warm and Normandy’s climate is not unpleasant. I wonder that Hevald decided to venture this far north when he was seeking his land of peace.”

“Gwynthal isn’t this chill. I told you, the interior of the island is sheltered by high cliffs.” She rose to her feet. “I think you’re as clean as I can get you in that little tub. Stand up and I’ll dry you.”

He groaned as he struggled to his feet and then stepped out of the tub. “Almost.”

“Almost what?” she asked absently as she toweled him dry.

“You almost had to call LeFont with the hatchet.”

“Well, it didn’t happen.” She draped the huge cloth about him. “And I was lucky to find a tub even this big. It’s entirely your fault for growing so large.”

“It’s a family curse. Hardraada was over seven feet tall.”

“Truly?” She had never seen a man of that size.

“Truly.”

She shook her head. “Astonishing. Sit down on the hearth while I have the tub removed and then I’ll give you some stew.”

He settled on the hearth and leaned back against the stones. “May I ask why you’re being so kind to me?”

“Because I’m rested and warm and you are not.”

“You’ve never felt the need to equalize before.”

“You make it very difficult to be kind to you. You always reach out to take before anyone has a chance to give.” The wind whistled into the cottage as she opened the door and called for the soldiers. “Keep that towel about you.”

She was frowning when she came back after the tub had been removed. “Malik is actually sitting on Adwen’s doorstep.”

“I know. I ran into him on my way here and he told me that was his intention.”

“What foolishness. It’s ice cold out there. Perhaps Adwen is right and I should tell him to go to shelter.”

“Leave them alone. Malik wouldn’t thank you for your interference.”

He was probably right, Brynn thought. Malik usually knew what he was doing.

“My supper,” Gage prompted her.

She crossed to the pot of stew bubbling over the flames. “Did you get the boats?”

“Only four.” He took the wooden bowl and spoon she handed him. “And they’re quite small. None of them will hold more than eight. That means we’ll have to leave most of LeFont’s men and all the horses here.”

“You won’t need an overlarge force on Gwynthal.”

“I hope not.” He finished the bowl of stew before
he said, “But nothing stays the same. Gwynthal may not be the peaceful haven you remember.”

“It will be the same,” she said quickly. “Gwynthal never changes. More stew?”

“No.” He put his bowl on the hearth. “I have something to tell you.”

She stiffened warily. “What?”

He threw aside the towel and rose to his feet. “Perhaps I should say I have something to show you.” He crossed naked to his clothing piled on the chair and retrieved his leather pouch. “It seems we’re not the first strangers to come here this autumn. A week ago they were visited by a young nobleman, fair of hair and comely of face.”

“Richard?”

“He didn’t give them his name.” He opened the pouch. “But he wanted to go to an island north of here. He bought a boat from them together with the services of a young man to help sail it. He paid with this.”

She looked down at the small ruby in his palm.

“Is it yours?” he asked.

“Yes. Delmas must have given it to Richard.”

“I thought as much.” He gave the ruby to her. “The young man, Walter, gave it to his father to keep for him when he left the village. It seems he had the good sense not to trust anything so valuable on his person while accompanying Richard.”

The jewel felt cool and alien against the flesh of her palm. She had worn it all the years of her childhood, but now it seemed as if it didn’t belong to her. Any fondness she had felt for it had been tainted by Delmas’s greed and Richard’s malice. “This Walter might have led Richard to Gwynthal, but he wouldn’t have been able to find a place to dock. It was folly for him to even try.”

“If Richard did succeed, then we may be met with an unpleasant surprise when we arrive.”

“He couldn’t find a way,” she said positively. She went to her leather pouch in a corner of the room and placed the ruby inside. She doubted if she would ever wear it again. “Gwynthal is safe from him.” In spite of her assurances, Richard’s appearance on the horizon filled her with unease. He had not been following, he had been ahead of them. It was disconcerting that he was doing the unexpected.

She gathered the blankets in the corner and brought them to the hearth. “These are our own. I aired them earlier this afternoon. The ones on the bed were dirty and I didn’t trust them to be insect free.” She spread out the blankets. “Do we leave tomorrow?”

“Yes, at first light.”

“Then lie down and go to sleep.” She took off her gown and settled down. “Why are you standing there? You know you’re exhausted.”

“Yes,” He lay down on his blanket and rolled away from her. “Good night.”

She stared at him in astonishment. There was no mistaking the pointed rejection. She curled into a ball, careful not to touch him. “Good night.”

There was a silence in the room broken only by the hiss of the burning logs.

“Why?” he asked quietly.

It was what she wanted to ask him regarding his withdrawal from her.

“Why have you been kind to me tonight?” he asked.

“Why were you kind to me in Kythe?” “Then it’s gratitude?”

“Yes. No. Why must you ask for reasons? You were in need and I wanted to give to you.” She paused and then said haltingly, “Why are you not holding me? Are you too weary?”

“I’ve never seen you the way you were at Kythe. I thought to give you time.”

Kindness again. “When you hold me … I find it pleasant. I feel very much alone and a little frightened. If it would not be too much trouble …”

His arms were around her, heavy, warm, shielding. “It’s no trouble,” he said thickly.

She buried her face in his chest. “Thank you.” The thatch of hair on his chest smelled vaguely of soap and the herbs she had tossed into the water. “I don’t wish to disturb you.”

“Then your wish is in vain. You always disturb me.” His arms tightened around her. “Go to sleep. You’ll need your rest. It will be an unpleasant voyage on that cold sea tomorrow.”

“Yes …” Her arms tightened around him. She wanted to talk to him, draw closer to him, but she knew she must lie very still and let him go to sleep. Gage had not had any rest that day, but had suffered the cold and wind for her sake. “We’ll both go to sleep.…”