Love's Call (3 page)

“No. Seventeen or eighteen turns, no more,” the Rider said, biting her bottom lip.

Tristan nodded. “Age is hard to determine even through magic, but I agree.”

“I will take care of her,” Roduch said.

Another vow.

Although Leargan hadn’t moved from his side, Roduch’s back was to them again. The other knight caressed the back of the girl’s hand with his thumb, leaning in to push the ebony curls from her face with a gentleness that belied his size.

“I know you will, my friend,” Leargan said.

Tristan and Jorrin exchanged a look with their wives, and Ansley Fraser shifted on her feet, when Leargan met her eyes.

Leargan shrugged and looked back at the two lords. He’d never seen Roduch like this either. This girl—she meant something to his fellow knight.

Roduch only had eyes for her.

“When will she wake?” Roduch asked.

“Hopefully the morning, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it was early afternoon. Her body’s healed. She won’t be scarred or sore anymore, but sleep needs to finish the job,” Lord Dagget said.

“I will stay with her.”

No one contradicted him.

Leargan nodded and met Roduch’s eyes. His friend relaxed into the chair even more.

“When she wakes, I want to be summoned,” Tristan ordered.

Roduch nodded over his shoulder before turning back to his charge.

“Morag will tend to anything she needs,” Lady Cera said. “Don’t mind my headwoman, if she fusses at you, Roduch. She will. If you think your place is here, it is. And you have the healer’s blessing or you wouldn’t be permitted to stay.”

Lord Dagget nodded as he gained his feet, pulling his wife to his side.

“Good night,” Roduch whispered.

After murmured goodnights, the six of them stepped out into the corridor. Lady Aimil closed the door quietly, before slipping her arm around Tristan’s waist. He’d gotten his color back, but he looked drained.

The healing lord swallowed back a yawn no one missed but smiled.

“Blessed Spirit, he’s awfully protective of someone he doesn’t even know,” Lord Aldern whispered.

“I’d noticed,” Leargan said. The Rider stood close to him, and he forced himself to look at the duke and ignore the urge to yank her to his side.

Where’s that coming from?

Both couples stood arms entwined, and he tried to ignore the picture of him and his old captain’s daughter touching in his mind.

“But…” tumbled out of Leargan’s mouth.

“But what?” the duke asked.

“Roduch has a little magic.”

“Go on…” Lady Cera prompted, gray gaze sharp.

Jorrin’s eyes narrowed.
Why did I not know this?
His eyes asked.

Leargan bit back a wince. Roduch wasn’t comfortable with his gift. How many times had Leargan heard that as a lad? Even when his magic had been helpful and one of Roduch’s visions had saved them.

Despite keeping secrets for a close friend, he should have told his lord.

The duke had a right to know what
all
the Knights of Greenwald were capable of. But somehow, Leargan was still leery of revealing Roduch’s secret. He forced words out of his mouth.

“He sees things. Visions. Since we were lads. He can’t control them. Sometimes the past, sometimes the future. He’s told me it’s hard to discern. He’s not comfortable. Never willingly accesses his magic. It’s physically disorientating. Roduch has told me he doesn’t know what brings it on, but they’ve saved my hide—my men’s and the king’s—a time or two, so I keep his secret. I’m not sure even the rest of the guard knows. Perhaps he sees something of the girl he has yet to reveal.”

Five sets of eyes stared at Leargan.

Lord Aldern didn’t look angry as he absorbed his speech, but said nothing.

Tristan and the women all looked pensive.

“My aunt has visions,” Lady Cera said. “But she’s very powerful and always in control. My mother, as well, had them, though not as strongly.”

Leargan nodded; he’d heard that Lady Lenore—Duchess of the Province of Tarvis—was a powerful oracle, among other things.

“He’s never trained?” Tristan asked.

“Only the sword.” He met Lord Dagget’s hazel eyes.

“Unhoned magic can be dangerous,” Lord Jorrin said, dark brow drawn.

“I’d agree, if it was more than visions, but it’s not,” Leargan said. “Especially since he doesn’t use it. Or try to.”

“I agree.” Tristan nodded.

“We can sort the rest out in the morning,” Lady Aimil said, tightening he grip on her husband’s waist as he swayed.

Leargan took a step forward to assist, but the healer put a palm up. “I’m fine, but seeking my bed is necessary.” With further assurance he needed no assistance, Lord Dagget slipped his arm around Lady Aimil’s shoulders. The couple headed down the corridor away from them.

“I’d like to say the same, but it seems I’ve other business.” Lord Aldern turned to Ansley Fraser and gave a half-bow, offering a charming smile.

The girl blushed scarlet and something akin to jealousy tightened Leargan’s gut. He pushed it away and chided himself.

“You’ve a message for me?” Jorrin prompted when she said nothing.

“Aye.” The Rider produced a small scroll, placing it in the duke’s outstretched hand.

“I’ve heard so much about you, Mistress Fraser. It’s so nice to finally meet you.”

She touched her cheek and smiled. “And I of you, my lord, but please call me Ansley.”

“Please call me Jorrin.”

“Oh, Ansley, I’m so glad to see you!” Lady Cera hugged her friend. “When are going back to Terraquist? You have to stay until the baby comes.”

“The king has given me leave for a visit.”

“Wonderful!”

The two women chatted for a few moments, and Leargan couldn’t tear his eyes away from the vision that was his captain’s daughter. Her blue-green eyes and gorgeous face lit up, as she laughed with the duchess.

“It’s late, love. You need to get off your feet. Tristan said it’ll help with preventing more false labor,” the duke said.

“False labor?” Ansley’s voice was concerned.

Lady Cera scrunched up her nose and nodded. “We were up all night last night. No baby, obviously.” She patted her distended tummy.

“Oh my. By all means, get to bed then, Cera.”

Jorrin slipped his arm around his wife’s shoulders and pulled her to his side. “I’ll review the message tonight. The king said it was urgent?”

“He did.” The Rider nodded.

Leargan was intrigued with the change in her expression. Concern for her friend melted into seriousness, as she discussed the scroll; her duties. She cared deeply for her role.

She squared her shoulders and her green cloak shifted. When she caught him looking at her, Ansley smiled shyly.

His stomach fluttered, and he made himself look away as heat crept up his neck.

“Goodnight, Leargan.” Jorrin’s voice made him jump and he swallowed. The duke shot him a knowing glance, and he bit back a groan. “I’ll brief you on the scroll in the morning if need be.”

Damn empathic magic.

Leargan was transparent, whether he wanted to be or not.

The duke’s gift allowed him to literally
feel
other people’s emotions. The closer he was to a person, the more he felt for them, the stronger his ability.

“Understood.” Leargan forced a nod.

“I’ll call a maid to show Ansley to a room and order her a bath,” Lady Cera said.

“Don’t go to any trouble.” The Rider gestured and shook her head.

“It’s not trouble. You need to rest as much as the girl in that room. A bath will loosen your muscles. I remember long runs well. It’s hard on the body.”

Lord Aldern laughed. “Don’t argue with her.”

Ansley smirked. “I know all about that.”

“I’ll do it.” Leargan’s voice startled him and he almost fidgeted

The duchess smiled. “Put her on the far end; it’s the nicest room.”

Leargan nodded.

The Lady and Lord of Greenwald slipped down the wide hallway, their conversation too low to hear.

“Thank you, Sir Tegran. I don’t want to be any trouble.”

“You’re not.
At all.
You saved that girl’s life tonight. If you hadn’t found her, she wouldn’t have lasted until morning.”

“Well, Ali found her. But thank you.” Again a shy smile curved her lips, her cheeks stained pink.

She’s blushing? Why?

And why did it please him?

She glanced at the door to the girl’s room. “Will she be all right?”

“She’s safe, and Roduch will protect her.”

“That I believe.”

The black wolf sidled up to them, leaning into the Rider’s thigh and destroying his concentration on her mistress’s lovely face. The beast put him on edge, though he was long comfortable with wolves in the castle. Both ladies of the castle were bonded to wolves.

Ansley’s Ali didn’t like him.

Leargan could feel it in his bones. The hair stood up at the back of his neck. He made split second contact with Ali’s yellow eyes, but forced his away, not wanting her to think he was challenging her.

Ali growled.

“Ali, no.” Ansley’s voice stopped the noise coming from the beast, but it took all he was made of not to shift on his feet. She patted the wolf’s head, but it was admonition, not caress.

“She doesn’t trust me.”

“Sorry, Sir Tegran, she doesn’t trust anyone but me.”

“Leargan. Please call me Leargan.”

Her cheeks went crimson again and he smiled. Leargan took her hand and tucked her arm into his elbow. “Let’s get you to your room. It’s late.”

****

Ansley looked around the lavish guestroom Leargan had shown her to.

A young maid had met them at the door and introduced herself as Daicy. She was a pretty and petite, with dark honey locks and brown eyes. Even at the late hour, her clothing was crisp, her hair partially covered with a white linen kerchief. Her skirt and tunic were tan in color, covered by a white apron.

Daicy promised she would be back with hot water.

The large tub had been placed in front of the fireplace for warmth, instead of in the sizable privy in the corner of the room.

Sir Leargan had taken his leave then. Ansley had had a hard time
not
staring at his retreating figure, especially the tight breeches that hugged his rear and muscled legs.

She rubbed her arm, and the touch reminded her of his fingertips brushing her skin.

The knight’s presence in Greenwald wasn’t a surprise. Her father had told her he was the captain of Cera and her husband’s personal guard, but she’d never imagined he’d be one of the first people she’d meet.

He has no idea who you are.

Ansley sighed. It didn’t matter anyway. Sir Leargan Tegran had nothing to do with her assignment anyway.

Leargan had been a girlhood crush. Over the turns, she’d tried to forget her childish fantasies regarding the handsome knight.
And
failed
.

He still made her heart flutter and her stomach jump with only a thought.

And why was she thinking of
him
anyway? Ansley should be focused on that poor girl.

Repeated
rapes.

More beatings than what had been evident on her body tonight.

Thank the Blessed Spirit Lord Dagget had been able to heal her.

“Who hurt her?” The phrase reverberated in her mind as worry seized her gut.

The girl’s body was healed. But her mind?

Moving passed what she’d been through would take a long time. Ansley shuddered, wrapping her arms around her waist.

Cera had magic at her disposal. Surely, her men would find the person who had hurt the dark-haired girl. Hopefully when she woke, the girl could give Cera’s husband information.

Ali wuffed, and Ansley threw her a glance. Her bond had claimed the large bed, lying at its center.

Ansley went to the trunk at the foot of the ornate bed frame, laying her hunter green Senior Rider cloak down with care. After plopping down on the bed, she threw her arms around her wolf.

“You growled at him, you naughty girl,” she chided, smiling into Ali’s soft mane.

Her bond whined and licked her ear. The she-wolf whimpered and nuzzled her side before curling up against Ansley’s body.

A knock on the door made her sit up. “Come in.”

Ali lifted her large head, but Ansley’s bondmate made no move to exit the bed.

Stay
. Ansley thought-sent the command. If the she-wolf remained still and visible, it would probably make Daicy feel better.

The staff at Greenwald should be used to seeing wolves, since there were two in residence, but Ansley wanted to be safe.

Being bonded to a wolf, or any other kind of beast, wasn’t uncommon though, especially among the messengers of The King’s Riders. Even Senior Riders tended to be young and were expected to travel vast distances, most of the time alone.

Any beast with relative intelligence, sharp teeth and claws was handy for protection, even though Riders were all trained with the sword and bow.

Ali had been a gift from Ansley’s father three turns before, when she’d achieved the rank of Senior Rider.

Daicy was back, along with the headwoman and two lads about twelve. They all carried steaming buckets of water and filed into the room.

Morag was pleasantly plump, rather pretty and had her graying, brown hair in a thick neat plait down her back, just like Ansley’s own. The lads, one blond and the other his opposite with black hair, both displayed lopsided grins Ansley couldn’t help but return.

Was everyone chipper, despite the late hour?

Maybe Cera ran an overnight shift of servants regularly.

They dumped the water into the large tub, and Daicy smiled at Ansley. “That should do it, mistress.”

Steam rose idly from the tub.
Inviting.
Ansley couldn’t wait to get into it.
So, a bath isn’t a bad idea after all.
Her limbs and back ached. Cera was right. She needed a good soak.

The lads scampered out of the room, their wooden pails knocking together. Ansley bit her bottom lip to keep back another grin as Morag muttered something about rascals being worse late at night.

“The beast is on the bed?” The disapproval in the woman’s voice swung Ansley’s gaze back to her. Morag wiped her hands on her white apron, glaring at Ali.