Scoundrel's Kiss (7 page)

The memory of her agonized voice
punched into his mind, through the pain and past his frustrations. I
will
not be held captive again.

Gavriel had known captivity, and the
very idea of returning to the service of his former master chilled him. He
would rather die. Whatever this woman had suffered backed her toward the same
conclusion. Death was better than captivity. And while Gavriel tried to find
comfort in submission, she only saw. it as weakness. Another trap.

"You don't want to die, but you
cannot live with the fear." He turned her to face him. Their eyes met
across an ocean of anger. "That's why you fight, isn't it? Likely, it's
how you've learned what you know of combat."

She nodded, just barely.

"Then let me help you."

Chapter 5

Help. This was his idea of help?

Ada glared at the back of Gavriel's
head. He rode high on his steed, keeping company with his morals, while she
walked behind the horses, tethered like a criminal. The harder she fought
against the ropes binding her wrists, the tighter the knots became. A second, shorter
piece of rope laced the back of her gown shut She would have sworn his hands
shook as he had worked in quiet diligence to make her decent.

The caravan merchants had crawled from
beneath their wagon hiding places to assess the damage. Two of the guards still
lived, as did Pacheco and Fernan. The latter appeared an unbecoming shade of
green. Streaks of vomit sullied his white robes.

Down from his horse, Gavriel stalked
from wagon to wagon and appraised the scene with a quick, intense gaze. She
watched as he checked each corpse. He moved as if he had often patrolled the
aftermath of a battle, wary of continued threats.

"This one yet lives," he said
to a guard.

"For but a moment longer."
The guard performed his duty with an unsteady hand.

"What happened to the
others?" Gavriel asked, his face grim but composed. "There are only
seven dead here."

The guard pointed to the south.
"They fled."

Their conversation faded for Ada as she
suffered another bout of trembling. Limbs and bone became a quivering mass. The
ground did not feel as hard as it should when she melted into the thorny grass.
Cold. Thirst. Violent dizziness. She shivered, the sky moving in sickening
circles.

"What ails her?" asked the
guard.

"She's unwell. Nothing more."

Pacheco hovered nearby. "What
happened? Why is she bound?"

Gavriel hesitated. She watched with
detached amusement as he grappled for a response. But the mocking laughter in
her head found no voice.

"For her own good, Master."
Gavriel knelt beside her and pushed the hair from her face. With a quick move,
he untied the knots at her wrists. "Get her a blanket, Fernan "

"I don't want your blanket,"
she said past chattering teeth.

He exhaled, looking more than a little
lost. "Will you walk to Yepes?"

"I cannot."

"You will, if you do not relent
And you'll say 'please'."

"I'll not beg."

"Then you have a long road ahead
of you." He accepted the blanket from Fernan and held it out to her.
"What say you,
inglesa?"

She slumped back and dug her fingers
into the dirt and grass. "Fiend."

He stood, his face carved of stone. She
closed her eyes and remembered lying on the pallet she had once shared with
Meg, at home in England. Ada had dried wildflowers in colorful bunches and hung
them from the ceiling beams. As night fell, she would watch the shadows they
cast in the flickering firelight. When daylight returned, their muted, subtle
colors offered places of brightness in the forest and in the life she had
resented.

But what she would give to have that
life returned to her. And rain. She missed the rain.

She had not been home for more than a
year, having burned bridges with terrible and bitter efficiency. And now Jacob
was gone too. She had no one and nothing, plagued by a bizarre novice and his
strange determination to see her cured.

Part of her wanted to relent. He would
help her through the worst of the withdrawal. Despite his temper, he was
motivated by an unknown need to win their battle of wills, not by an impulse to
do her harm.

But the part of her that wanted help
was not as noisy or brutal as her craving. If Gavriel stood between her and the
opium she needed, he was her enemy. He was her captor. The monastery at Ucles
could be like heaven on earth and she would still regard it as a prison.

"Gavriel, help her." Pacheco
was not so tall, and despite his age and position of authority, he seemed to be
asking the novice to comply.

Tell him.
Make
him help me.

Gavriel seemed to have heard her silent
demand. She forced her uncooperative limbs to work, to stand. Strong arms
offered support, banding her lower back and pulling her close. Heat from his
body soothed her chills. She ached to push closer, hold tighter—any
relief from the gathering storm inside her.

"Come now." The deep, quiet
timbre of his voice, so near to kindness, threatened to start her crying.
"Stand for me. Good. Now keep your feet." He forced a scant distance
between their bodies and met her unfocused gaze. "You'll need to be
strong. Yepes is quite a distance to walk."

She stumbled. "You're a
monster!"

"I'm helping you, whether you see
that or not"

"How? By making a sick woman
walk?"

"By curing the sickness you've
brought on yourself." His wide and muscular chest blocked the sun, blocked
thought "I told you, in this I will not be deterred."

Reflexively, she touched the petite
sheath at her hip. She needed to feel the reassurance of its cold metal.
Safety. But it was empty.

"Where's my dagger?"

"I have it."

"You cannot keep it!"

"I won't let you cut me
again." He lifted his forearm and pinned her with an excruciating glare.

Ada blanched at the damage she had
done. A clean slice scored half the length of his forearm, crusted with drying
blood. She touched it with wobbling fingers, gently. He hissed
 
but did not flinch. Tendons flexed on
the inside of his wrist

He deserved what she had done, or so
she tried to believe. But all hard flesh and power, doing him harm seemed an
affront to nature.               

"I've yet to hear an
apology."                 
                     
   

Ada swallowed. "You never
will."

"We must continue," said
Pacheco. "Nightfall approaches."

Gavriel nodded. "Master, has
anyone retrieved the cart?"

"It was burned and the donkey
taken." He handed Gavriel
 
a
canvas sack and Ada's satchel. "But we've protected most of our
belongings."

Fernan, pale except for the dark
circles below his eyes, I raised his brows. "And where will she ride?
Perhaps I could
 
make room on my
saddle."   

"She'll walk. Seems the lady
prefers it that way." Gavriel stalked to his horse and climbed up. He
stared at her, unrelenting and cold. "And if you refuse, I'll not hesitate
to bind your wrists again."

Pacheco shook his head. "Gavriel,
you—"

"Master, please. If this is my
obligation, allow me to proceed as I see fit—as long as I act within the
bounds of the Order. Trust that I can do this." He waited. They waited
Even the merchants and the remaining guards watched the contest. "Do I
have your permission to proceed, Master?"

"Yes, Gavriel. Do as you see
fit"

Gavriel turned to Ada, his face without
emotion. "Will you come to Yepes or stay here with the caravan?"

The beast had the nerve to abduct her
under the guise of a clergyman's goodwill, wrenching her from of the pleasures
she had enjoyed. So be it He would offer diversion until she was free to return
to Toledo. Then she would wring Jacob's idealistic neck.

"Yepes it is," she said,
smiling sweetly. The flicker of panic on his face assuagedier ragged pride.
"Lead the way, novice."

Yes, she would enjoy pulling him down
to the ground. He was not who he longed to be, and she would prove it She would
make Gavriel de Marqueda break each of his precious vows.

They came to Yepes an hour before
nightfall. Long shadows stretched behind each squat building, the western faces
burnished by fading gold. Never had Gavriel been so relieved to see a day come
to an end. Any more surprises and he would lose his footing completely.

He glanced back, a gesture he had
repeated often enough to cramp the right side of his neck. Ada still followed.
Head bowed, her hair like a curtain over her pale face, she trudged with the
resignation of an animal to slaughter. The fact she walked at all was proof of
her continued defiance. Her feet dropped heavily with each step, her arms
dangling uselessly at her sides. Perhaps she would collapse into sleep without
another confrontation.

He should be so lucky.

But the question of
where
she
would sleep had nettled him for three hours. Sleeping alone was not an option
for the unpredictable trickster. No, she was predictable. She would try to
escape.

"Gavriel!"

He turned. Pacheco and Fernan both
looked back to where Ada lay crumpled on the road. Gavriel jumped from the
horse and chewed the scant distance between them, anger adding speed to his
long strides. Another trick. Her insufferable antics tested his patience nearly
as much as her—well, all of her. Almost.

But it was no trick. Cold and pale, her
skin shimmered with sweat. Irregular breaths jerked her chest. Her whole body
shook. Fine tremors, full shudders—even this black sleep could not keep
her still. A trickle of blood oozed from the base of her skull. She must have
hit her head when she collapsed.

Gavriel choked on a mouthful of bitter
guilt. He had been certain of his course. But what did he know of opium or of
women? As for medicine, he had only ever tended war wounded, patching holes and
gashes, not invisible hurts. She brought out the stubborn worst in him, leading
him to think in terms of combat, not compassion. An enemy. Someone keeping him
from his objective. How could he save her, thinking that way?

The thought of touching her was no less
worrying. Having been raised knowing only fists and swords, the shock of
touch—his skin against the skin of another—still had the power to
shake him to the core. He missed his isolation. The certainty of it.

But she needed someone.

Cradling Ada's head, he lifted her
trembling body and fought the tremor of disquiet at holding her. He returned to
the horse and shoved their satchels out of the way. Pacheco assisted in
settling them both onto the saddle. Her body pulsed with an unnatural heat and
her head flopped back. She cried out as the muscles in her belly convulsed.
Gavriel pulled her closer to his chest and began to pray, not for himself but
for this woman who had strayed so far.

Upon reaching the walls surrounding the
small city of Yepes, Pacheco consulted with the guards and secured their entry.
They proceeded through the darkening streets. Merchants concluded their
business for the day, packing their stands and closing modest shops. As with
most towns on the plateau, once governed by the Moorish regimes of the south,
its citizens comprised an uneasy mix of cultures.
Cormvencia,
the subtle
art of living and prospering among diverse peoples. On that evening, beneath a
clear, cool sky, it seemed both easy and right.

Pacheco led the way to the villa owned
by the Archbishop of Toledo. Constructed in the style of the Mudejar, a square
tower decorated with intricate brickwork and glazed ceramics looked over the
wide residence. Beyond its walls, fields of wine grapes were just beginning to
bear fruit They passed through a series of arched entrances to where a dozen
attendants waited.

"Greetings, Brother Pacheco."
Short and round, the archbishop's majordomo, Miguel Latorre, wore dark,
billowing robes trimmed in red. He compulsively stroked a full and well-groomed
beard. A reading stone dangled from a gold chain at his waist. "The
archbishop is not in residence this evening, but permit me to offer our
hospitality on his behalf."

Pacheco smiled and bowed as groomsmen
led the horses to adjoining stables. "We seek another night's shelter on
our return to the monastery."

"Of course."

Although he spoke to Pacheco, Latorre's
deeply set eyes flicked to where Ada draped in Gavriel's arms. Gavriel had
never liked the officious little toad, a sentiment that did not alter as he
stood there, desiring only a place to ease Ada through the night.

Pacheco noticed the man's curiosity.
"Ah, yes. This is our new slave. She is unwell, and we should like a
private room for her."