Dragonblade Trilogy - 02 - Island of Glass (11 page)

He liked that thought. “I shall
teach you about battle tactics and you can teach me about the stars. On second
thought, I’d better not teach you about battle tactics. Knowing your history as
I do, you may use them against me.”

She pretended to be offended by
his comment, jutting her chin into the air and looking away from him.  Kenneth
simply grinned, placing his free hand over her fingers and clasping the warm
digits.

“Does your backside really hurt
that bad?” he asked.

“I am surprised you didn’t break
your hand beating me as you did.”

He laughed. It was the second
time in as many days that he had done so. At this rate, he’d laugh more in the
next few days than he had in his entire life.

“My apologies if I bruised you.”

“How clever. I noticed that you
do not apologize for spanking me.”

“Nor will I. You deserved it.”

They fell into silence as they
mounted the steps for the keep. In the great hall, supper had been laid out and
there were several senior soldiers already seated and eating. Lucius, Reid,
Bradley, Everett, Max, and a couple of young squires were also present. 
Kenneth seated Aubrielle between himself and Lucius. Everett, seated across
from them, did most of the talking, as was usual. A normal evening would have
Kenneth watching the room, Lucius drinking, Reid and Bradley engaging in some
sort of gambling vice, and Everett chatting. All that was missing was the earl,
and tonight, the men were somewhat humble in his memory.

Aubrielle picked at her fowl, not
particularly hungry. Besides, the bird was dry. It occurred to her that what
she really wanted to do was be alone with Kenneth so that they could converse
more about anything that came to mind.  He seemed to be sitting so still and so
silent. Once, she stole a glance at him to see what he was up to; he had been
gazing out across the sea of men. He had caught her look and a brief wink
ensued. But that was all, and not enough to satisfy her. He certainly would not
talk to her.

The soldiers were growing loud
with their drink. They were throwing scraps to the dogs, placing bets on the
ones they believed able to fight for the biggest piece. Everett was attempting
to impress Aubrielle with his knowledge of construction engineering where it
pertained to castle building, but Aubrielle was focused on a small dog in the
writhing, snarling group of canines. It was a little gray dog that kept getting
shut out of the scrap fight. Finally, the little dog dejectedly wandered away
from the crowd and sat politely by the fire. The pup was smart enough to know
he was outmatched and patiently wait for his moment to clean up after the big
dogs.

Aubrielle stood up in the middle
of Everett’s conversation. Kenneth watched her walk from the table and towards
the fighting mass of dogs.  She gave them a wide berth and came around to the
massive stone hearth where the little gray dog sat.  She crouched down, holding
out her hand to the pup. The dog, thrilled with the attention, licked her
fingers happily. She promptly picked up the puppy and brought him back over to
the head table.

Kenneth moved over as she sat the
dog down between them.  Without a word of request from her, he handed her the
knuckle-bone from his trencher.  He knew instinctively what was on her mind.
She accepted the bone and gave it to the dog, which hungrily gnawed on it.

“Poor creature,” she stoked the
dog’s back and was rewarded with a wag of the tail. “He was being ignored.
He’ll never get anything to eat.”

“I think you underestimate him,
my lady,” Kenneth replied. “He is survived quite some time around here.”

She continued to pet the dog,
wondering why Kenneth’s manner had grown hard. His tone was not the same one
she knew when they were alone. She had noticed the change in his conduct when
they had been in the chapel, too, in front of his men. He hadn’t even come for
her himself; he had sent Everett to escort her. The apparent pattern was that
he showed very little interest in her when it was in front of his men. He was
always polite, yet cold.  It was a baffling occurrence, one she did not
understand. But she knew that she did not like it.

To her left, Lucius had evidently
had enough to drink and begged his leave from the table. Aubrielle glanced at
him, weaving his way across the great hall and disappearing into the darkness
of the shadowed foyer.  The other knights didn’t seem concerned with his
departure. Kenneth remained as silent as the grave and Everett had all but
given up trying to carry on a conversation with her. Dejected at Kenneth’s
behavior and weary from the day, Aubrielle rose from her seat with the little
dog in her grasp. She’d had enough.

“I shall take my leave as well,”
she said to Kenneth. “I believe I shall take my little friend with me.”

Kenneth stood up. “I shall see to
you, my lady.”

“No,” she said pointedly. “You
will stay here with your men. I can find my own way.”

Kenneth didn’t respond; he simply
followed her as she walked across the hall and into the foyer. She turned to
him as they reached the darkened stairwell.

“I am quite capable of finding my
chamber, sir knight,” she said. “You need not be bothered with me.”

“It is no bother.”

“I beg to differ. Please go back
to your men.”

He cocked his head. “What ails
you, my lady?”

So he had picked up on her
confusion.  Aubrielle recognized that she was having a difficult time
controlling her feelings and struggled not to let it show.

“Nothing ails me, I assure you,”
she said evenly. “I simply want to… be alone.”

“Have I done something?”

She growled before she could stop
herself. “Of course you have, you dolt. You have ignored me all through dinner.
You sent Everett to escort me to the chapel, and every time we are together in
front of your men, ‘tis as if I cease to exist.” Her eyes widened with dismay
as she realized what a fool she was being. “Please. Just… leave me alone.”

She turned and raced up the
steps, dog in hand. Kenneth stood there at the base of the stairs, her words
spinning in his head. He realized that she had picked up on something not even
he had been aware of. When he was in front of his men, his behavior was always
the same. There was no variation. He was Kenneth St. Héver, and the perception
of his fierce and unyielding manner must always be apparent.

She was right. He ignored her
when they were in public. He didn’t want his men to see any other façade but
the hard knight. With Aubrielle, he knew he would act like a slotted fool. He
was afraid to show weakness, afraid she was playing him for a fool. With a sigh
of regret, he turned back to the hall. Perhaps after he’d had a chance to sort
it out in his own mind, he could explain it to her.

Aubrielle reached her chamber in
a flurry. She raced inside, her cheeks flushed, and stood in the middle of the
room like a fool. She could not believe she had said what she did, acting as if
she and Kenneth had something more than just an arranged convenience. She had
acted as if there was something of emotion involved, and that it had already
been established between them. She was acting as if she had a claim to him.

She groaned softly, setting the
pup down. He sat right at her feet and wagged his tail as she stood there, her
hand on her face, wondering if throwing herself from the window would be a
quick end to her humiliation.  Perhaps after she’d had time to sort it all out,
she could come up with a good explanation so he would not think she actually
harbored feelings for him. The mere idea was preposterous, she told herself.
She was an intelligent woman; surely she could come up with something
believable.

The dog yipped and something very
heavy struck her on the side of the face. Dazed, nearly incapacitated, Aubrielle
fell to her knees and received another blow, this one to her stomach. With a
flash of pain, her world suddenly went black.

***

Kenneth had spent a solid hour
trying to think of something to say to Aubrielle about his behavior. 
Everything he could think of sounded foolish, so he was leaning strongly
towards telling her the truth. He simply didn’t know how else to behave when in
front of his men. Even as he repeated it in his head, he knew she would reject
it. But it was the truth, for better or worse. He didn’t want to wait until the
morning to tell her. He would tell her now and hoped she had calmed down enough
not to try and take the poker to him again.

The feast of drinking and
gambling was rolling well into the night as he excused himself from the hall.
Sounds of laughter and music followed him as he mounted the dark stairs to the
third floor of the keep. There were three rooms on this level; one for the
earl, an empty chamber once used by the earl’s wife, and Aubrielle’s chamber.
Once clear of the steps, he passed the empty chamber and came to Aubrielle’s
door. He noticed immediately that the panel was slightly askew. Knocking
softly, he received no reply. Pushing the door open, he entered.

The room was dark but for the
fire burning low in the hearth. As his eyes adjusted to the room, he noticed
the bed was empty.  It was not only confusing, it was alarming. He was half way
into the chamber when noticed a pile of clothing on the floor.

It was no ordinary pile of
clothing. Aubrielle lay crumpled somewhere in it.  Kenneth fell to his knees
beside her, feeling a surge of terror as he had never felt in his life. He put
his fingers to her neck and, feeling her strong pulse, relief flowed through
him.

He didn’t want to move her for
fear of aggravating whatever injury she had, so he shifted to gain a better
look at her. He could see a welt on her cheekbone, bruised and bleeding.  He
could not have imagined what had happened to her.  He put his hands on her
shoulders and ever-so-gently rolled her onto her back.

“My lady,” he whispered. “Aubrielle,
can you hear me?”

She moaned a little and he
gathered her up, cradling her head in the crook of his arm.  He smoothed the
loose hair away from her face so he could get a better look at her.

“Aubrielle,” he shook her as
gently as he could. “Sweetheart, wake up. Open your eyes and look at me.”

After a moment, she seemed to become
more lucid. Then, her features twisted with pain.

“Oh,” she gasped. “I… I…”

Her fist balled up and her entire
body tensed. Kenneth could feel the fight in her and he held her steady.

“Aubrielle, ‘tis me,” he grasped
her hand to keep her from striking him. “You are safe, I swear it.”

Slowly, the sea-colored eyes
lolled open. They were unfocused. “St. Héver?” she whispered.

“I am here. Do not fear.”

She blinked and her vision became
clearer. “What… what happened?”

He smoothed her forehead, like a
mother soothing an ill child. “That is what I intended to ask you. Do you not
recollect anything?”

She took a deep breath and
instantly doubled over in pain. Had Kenneth not had a good grip on her, she
would have tumbled back to the floor. Aubrielle was gasping and weeping.

“Aubrielle, tell me,” he demanded
softly. “Where does it hurt?”

“My… my stomach.”

Kenneth swept her easily into his
arms and laid her upon the bed.  She was crying softly, trying to be brave, but
the pain was intense. He knew something of injuries from his years on the
battlefield and tried to straighten her out so he could better assess the area
of injury.

“The first thing we have to do is
unlace this girdle,” he made small talk, trying to distract her from her agony.
The laces came loose and he tossed the accessory to the floor. “Now, let’s see
what we can discover.”

Aubrielle had her hand on her
face. “Someone hit me,” she murmured. “I remember… someone hit me.”

A spark of anger, such as he had
never known, began to burn deep in his belly. He tried to focus on helping her
for the moment rather than his murderous thoughts of vengeance.  The gown would
not come off easily and every movement seemed to cause her pain.  Taking hold
of a seam, he gave a sharp tug and ripped the seam from her armpit to her
ankle. A few more rips and the gown peeled away like the skin of an orange.
Laid open to her shift, he could now gain better access.

“Show me where it hurts,” he said
gently.

Aubrielle put her hand to the
middle of her belly. Kenneth barely touched her and she yelped.  Even though
there was no external bleeding, he did not want to take any chances. She needed
a physic. Fear began to make strange company with fury in his mind.

He summoned the toothless serving
wench and sent her running for the knights.  Aubrielle’s tears had calmed and
he pulled the coverlet over her, hoping to make her more comfortable until the
surgeon arrived.  He hated feeling so helpless.

“The physic will come soon,” he
murmured. “Try to rest now.”

Her sea-colored eyes were unnaturally
bright against her ashen face. “I never heard anything. One moment I was
standing, and in the next, I was falling to the floor.”