Rising Fire (15 page)

T
he weather outside remained sunny and mild for the second day in a row, and Brienne decided to walk outside and enjoy it. If the truth be told, she was bored at having no tasks to see to or errands to carry out.

The anticipation of what was to come this night made her shiver when she thought about it, and that brought attention from either Lady Margaret or Adelaide when they were with her. So she asked permission to walk and left the keep. She noted that her chamber was at one end of the building on the second floor as she followed a servant out. Trying to remember where Lord Hugh's had been, she studied the windows from outside, deciding that his was on the far end in the small tower.

She thought about leaving the castle grounds and going to see her—Gavin and Fia, but she'd said she would remain here until she gained control over her power. Looking about, she walked toward the far corner of the castle, where men trained. Drawn by the sound of cheering, she discovered that small groups of men were practicing their skills by fighting other groups.

She walked to the fence that surrounded the training area and watched as one of the groups, four men in each, moved effortlessly and won against each opponent. They did not use the longer battle swords yet, but first worked with the long wooden staffs and then shorter ones and then short swords and shields.

The crowd grew and the men became quite boisterous, calling out to their friends, though none seemed happy that the successful four soldiers were winning. One of the four outshone the others, moving expertly no matter which weapon he held. His steps were like those of a dance; he was sliding and shifting without watching and all the while engaging whomever he faced. Only when he turned and came out of the shadows did she recognize him.

Sir William de Brus.

Her breath caught in her body and she could not turn her eyes away from his every move and step. William seemed to lose himself in the battle, paying no heed to anyone or anything but the fight. A pale blue shimmer outlined his body, and she watched as it ebbed and flowed around him with each movement.

Knowing now that he held some kind of power, as she and her father did, she was not frightened as she had been the first time she'd noticed it. It made sense now that there might be others like her and Lord Hugh. What power had he? The way that he fought this day and on that other one, the way his body had changed as he faced danger and became one with his weapon, she thought he must carry some warrior's power.

She shrugged it off, content just to watch him.

Soon, too soon for her, the matches were over and the ground littered with his opponents, though none
seemed to be injured. Their pride mayhap bruised, but all would live to fight another day.

Just then a cloud crossed in front of the sun, casting a shadow over William and his men. She shivered, knowing somehow that they would fight again and they would face Lord Hugh's men, these very men, again. The next time, though, it would be a struggle of life and death for all of them.

At that moment, William looked away from the men to whom he spoke and met her eyes. At first glance, she thought he did not recognize her, but then he nodded to her. With a word to his men, who also followed his gaze and noticed her, he walked toward her. He wore only breeches, and his broad, muscular chest glistened with sweat. He'd pulled back and tied his long brown hair out of his face, which just made the masculine lines and angles of his jaw more attractive.

When he reached her and smiled at her with a sense of familiarity, any words of greeting scattered in her mind. This was the man who had kissed her relentlessly. This was the man who had touched her so intimately. Though he said it was to teach her the dangers in being alone with a man, even she recognized the moment when he'd forgotten the lesson and simply kissed and caressed
her
. Her body blossomed with heat of a kind different from the one she could bring forth.

“Brienne, I did not think to find you here,” he said with a glance around to see who was near. “Are you well?”

“I did not think to see you either, Sir William,” she finally said. “Aye, I am well.” He watched her as though he expected her not to be. That was puzzling. “So you have met with Lord Hugh as you wished to?”

“I have,” he said. Confusion filled his eyes now. “What are you doing here in the castle?”

What could she say without revealing Lord Hugh's secrets? What reason could she give for being here, being dressed not as the daughter of the blacksmith any longer but as the daughter of the lord? Deciding simpler was easier, she gave him the truth, or part of it.

“Lord Hugh summoned me here.”

It was not enough; that much was clear on his face. But just as he began to pursue it, one of his men called out to him.

Torn, he waved back and turned to her.

“I must go,” he said. “I would speak to you, if you will be here later? Or do you return to the village?”

“Sir William!” He took a couple of steps away and waited for her reply.

She only shrugged and did not say.

“I will look for you, then.” And he was gone. He did lift his head and glance at her a few times, until she walked away.

Brienne returned to the family's chambers then, ignoring the racing of her heart and the way she had responded to the sight of his strong body moving across the field. He was here, within these walls, so near and yet so impossibly far from her. Her father was watching her, or at least having her watched, and she did not wish to do anything to jeopardize her newfound position in the family. So she would not seek William out.

No matter that her heart wanted her to . . . or that her body could still feel his hands moving over her stomach and touching her.

She ate once more in her chambers and then waited for the sound of her father's footsteps outside her door,
but instead, he simply appeared there and beckoned her to follow. With her palms sweating and her mouth dry, she trailed him without hesitation that night.

*   *   *

William looked down every corridor and hallway the rest of the day and evening. Lord Hugh did not appear for supper, so Lady Margaret entertained him. They came from neighboring areas in France and they had many common topics that kept the conversation going. But every time another person entered the dining chamber that sat off the great hall, he would turn to look.

And not find her.

Mayhap she was not here? Mayhap she had been there only on an errand between Lord Hugh and her father? Remembering the garments she wore, he doubted that. The gown was unlike any he'd seen her wear before. It was of a costly fabric, and the belt around her hips was fine-tooled leather. Again, costly and finer than the daughter of the blacksmith would have.

More like the kind a wealthy man gave to his mistress.

The thought of Brienne being taken to the bed of a man like Hugh turned his stomach. And it was not just Hugh's reputation. It was . . . It was . . .

Her.

He drank the rest of the wine in his cup, trying to rid himself of such thoughts and suspicions. And a servant filled it once more. Against his own limits on drinking strong spirits, he finished that cup as well.

Lady Margaret babbled on, not realizing his attention had turned. Lady Adelaide had retired earlier, claiming a sour stomach. Finally, he pushed his cup away and nodded at her.

“It is selfish to keep you here paying attention to only me when you must have things to see to before retiring, Lady Margaret. May I,” he said, rising to his feet and holding out his arm, “escort you to your chambers?”

“Ah, 'tis later than I realized, Sir William,” she said, glancing around and signaling those who served there at table. “No need to escort me. My maid waits outside for me.”

Before she could leave, he asked her a question, trying to phrase it in a way that would not offend. “I thought I saw the blacksmith's daughter here earlier, my lady. Is she staying here now?”

The effect of his question was clear—the lady's face went blank and empty except for the slightest clenching of her jaw.

“There is no blacksmith's daughter in Yester Castle, Sir William.” He would have asked it again, differently, but she gave him no opportunity.

“Very well, my lady. My thanks for the meal and the company. Until the morn, then,” he said, bowing to her.

After she left, he comprehended that whatever task had brought Brienne here, whether an errand for her father or something else, Lady Margaret was not pleased by it. Her tone spoke of being treated with disrespect and not liking it.

Still, an errand for her father did not explain the expensive gown and belt, for the blacksmith would not ask nor expect such things in exchange for his work. Once again, his gut tightened at the thought of how those gifts came to be.

Although he did not believe the lady lied, there was something odd in her gaze and her words. As he strolled
along the corridors, eschewing offers of help when servants offered, he took note of each doorway and chamber and the layout of each floor and also looked for any sign of Brienne. Once done with his task, which he had the others doing in the barracks, as well, he sought out his chambers.

The strange thing was, once there and once the keep's occupants settled for the night, he could not stay awake as was his custom. He'd had wine, aye, and more than his usual amount, but not enough to make him this sleepy. William sat on the bed, trying to regain his balance, and next, he was sound asleep.

*   *   *

She followed where he led, through the silent corridors of the keep. Such an anxious, needy thing; he fought to keep from laughing at her outright. It had taken little more than a few soft smiles and a few hollow promises and she was his.

As her power would be.

Hugh worked with her for the next several hours, into the darkest part of the night while everyone in the castle slept deeply, and he began to understand the potential within her.

Unexpected.

Unharnessed.

Unlimited.

Her dam could not have been of the blood or she would not have been discarded. He would have used such a carrier to breed more offspring so that he had the chance to produce children who carried his power. He would have watched a woman capable of producing issue with such power carefully and used her carefully. How could she have escaped his notice?

Or had she?
whispered the mocking voice in his head. Memories flitted through his mind before he tamped them down, ignoring the taunting doubt. Instead of dwelling on it, he focused on showing Brienne how to hide herself in the smallest of flames. The girl learned quickly, absorbing all of his instructions and demonstrating skills he had not had at her age, even with training.

He would have taken a few moments to be proud of her if it wouldn't be a waste of his time. She would serve a purpose in the goddess's plan and then be gone. Once the portal was opened, she would be a powerful sacrifice and would make both him and the goddess he served invincible and unstoppable. The spells cast to exile the goddess worked only if all four gateways remained closed. If he could open one, she could escape its prison and then destroy the others, never to be bound again.

He turned his attention back to the girl and found her distracted. Closing his eyes, he opened his senses to discover the reason for it.

Fire was not the only power he possessed. Once he'd discovered the portal in the oldest ruins of the original castle—a window of a sort—the goddess shared more with him. He could work other spells, such as a sleeping spell like the one at work tonight. He could cover any sounds that others should not hear. He could sense, almost hear, the thoughts and fears of those around him, which was helpful in deciding how to sway them to his use. There was another power that he'd just begun using—one that would bend others to his will—and he salivated just at the thought of using it.

The image of the king's knight appeared in his mind.

“William de Brus?” he whispered aloud. The fireball she was perfecting dissolved at the words.

“My lord?” she asked, carefully avoiding his gaze.

“You know the king's knight?” Hugh studied her face as he waited for her to speak. “You spoke to him this day.” Everything she did was observed. He trusted no one, not even his recently claimed bastard.

“Aye,” she said. Nothing more. Hmm. Did she purposely hide something from him? It would not work, but she had not discovered that part of his abilities yet.

“You know him, Brienne?” he asked again, pushing against her mind with his, causing some amount of pain for her. When she gasped, he paused.

“I met him when we traveled back from Gifford.”

“Who else was with you?” He pushed again, and she hissed against it, her face going pale.

“My father.”

He decided he did not want her to think of Gavin again like that. Hugh spread the pain out so that her whole body felt it this time. She cried out then, her hands clenching against it.

“Who was with you?” he asked again. She looked at him with fear-filled eyes. “Call him by name, Brienne. And remember that you are my blood and not his.”

“Gavin,” she whispered. He released her, and she panted as the pain, once very real, faded. “I was with Gavin.”

“So the knight has been on my lands for weeks now?” he asked, waiting to see if she would tell him the truth this time.

“Aye, my lord.” She was breathing heavily now, part in fear and part in anticipation of the pain she knew he
could cause. He reached over and lifted her face to his. Inhaling her scent, he knew something else now.

“He arouses you.” He pulled her closer and inhaled once more. “He excites you and you want him.” Interesting. She reacted like a bitch in heat at the mention of the warblood's name. He dropped his hold and walked a few paces away. “Are you a virgin, girl?” he asked. She did not answer immediately.