Set to Flame (Flame Series) (7 page)

Alena
felt the fear of what she had done slam into her and she wanted to escape but they had reached the tent, for Marcus stood with the flap wide, and it was too late.  She stepped inside and felt his body press close as she hesitated in the doorway, her eyes adjusting to the dimmer light inside. 
Why didn’t I ask him to protect me,
she thought and called herself a fool.  He did not seem as if he would be as likely to kill her.  As a matter of fact he had a gentle side that contradicted the other men he rode with.

His hand came up to the small of her back applying pressure there to push her further into the tent.  He followed letting the flap drop and they were out of sight of all those eyes that had been gazing hungrily at her.

“You will also need a monthly stipend so you will have a way to get those things you will need.  Clothes, I would also make sure he purchases you the best materials to have the best dresses made for you.”

“This all seems a bit much for a whore.”

She looked at the tall man before her, broad of chest, his brown hair darker in the shadow of the tent, his brown eyes were likewise shadowed.  “Now you call yourself a whore?”

“I…,” she swallowed glancing away then quickly back to him.  “I don’t know what I am.”  The only thing she knew at that moment was she wanted Marcus to go away.  She did not want to talk about this and she craved to have solitude here as she had with
Ghalib.  It was better for no one to be concerned for her, and for her to likewise be unencumbered.

“You are not a whore,” and the sureness of his voice and the rage she heard made her take a step back and look closely at the man before her.  “You were just a child when you survived a massacre.  That does not make you a whore.  Garrick’s mother was a whore.
She took every man into her bed that was willing to pay.  You are a survivor.  You were wise to choose the man in all Christendom best able to protect you.”

“Is he unkind?”
Alena asked.

The man before her inhaled deeply and she knew he was choosing his words before he spoke them.  “He is a man born to a whore.  He was born fighting and a man such as he could never yield or falter.  He is the most ambitious man I know and soon he will leave the army and be one of the wealthiest lords in King Richard’s realm.  He is also true to his word, so you need not fear he will gainsay your price.  I have never known him to be with any woman other than a whore but I have never known him to be overly aggressive with them.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” she asked with a dry chuckle.

The man before her shrugged uneasily. 
Alena suddenly tired of the subject and to redirect her mind she said, “I understand that Damien and Cyrille are brothers.  What about you and the rest of the men?”

“I was the son of Lord Landry of Fenton.  When I heard there was this whore’s son with the intention to take Fenton from my father I had to meet him.  After meeting the man who would become the legend,” he said with a wry chuckle, “I joined forces with him.”

“You helped Garrick to fight against your own family.”

Marcus shook his head, his expression hard.  “I helped to free the people I grew up with from the abuses of the man who fathered me.  My father was a hard man, took what he wanted, destroyed what he wanted.  I vowed if ever anyone came to fight him I would join their side.  Perhaps Garrick is not so wise in the ways of a Lord but the people are free to live again and that is the most important thing.”

“Do you not have a brother or sister this would affect?”

“No,” he said with a bittersweet smile, “It was my inheritance alone I gave up.”

She found herself speechless as she stared at this man before her.  That he would fight to turn his power over to someone else she could not fathom.  Truly life before Ghalib seemed to be a blur.  In her mind, the image of both her mother and father faded it seemed with each passing day.   Although, she did recall a distant happiness, a ghost of a memory of a life without fear she did not allow herself the comfort of the memory.  To hear this man say he gave up his inheritance to end the suffering of the innocent confused her.  It brought forward the feeling the memory gave her and she recognized the peace it brought over her.  She felt muscles tight from years of being prepared to flee uncoil, and warmth flush through her body.

“Could you not have just killed your father and had the land for yourself?”

Marcus studied her for a moment as if he did not understand the question.  Then after several moments of silence he replied in a horrified voice, “He was my father.  I could not fight against him, could not send men to kill him for I could not live with myself if I knew it was my blow that ended his life.”

Alena
found herself smiling up at him and she saw a flicker in his eyes she knew well.  At first her senses seemed to heighten and her mouth suddenly became dry.  Her heart began a rapid and erratic pulse.  She straightened and put more distance between them.  That look had been one of desire.  She did not know the ways of the English men and their desires, but she imagined it was no different from Ghalib’s.

She heard the rustle of the tent flap.  She turned in time to see Garrick enter.  It seemed as if the inside of the tent became darker and colder with his presence.  Seeming unaware of the change around them Marcus turned to his commander with a smile.  “How does it look for
Cyrille?”

“You know how it looks for
Cyrille?” Garrick snapped as he crossed the tent to stand in front of her.  He studied her face for several moments and she concentrated on not showing the fear that made her knees weak.  Then she watched those devil eyes journey from her face, down her neck to her two hands clutching the cloak together.  She held to it so tightly her fingers turned white, he stood so close she could hear each breath he took.

He turned abruptly away, his back to her as if she could so easily be dismissed.  That was one of her shortcomings as a concubine, she could not be dismissed with the wave of a hand, nor was she ever just grateful for the life given her.  She craved her own.

“Alena is my woman.  As such I expect you to protect her.  Damien and I are going after Emir Ghalib.  Alena will go with you and you will take Cyrille in the morning and try to get him back home and to his sister.”  Unspoken were the words, “before he dies.”

Alena
could not see Marcus for the expanse of Garrick’s back as he replied, “Do you think that wise?”

“What?” the dark man in front of her asked. 
Alena took a step around Garrick so she might see his face.  Perhaps she would have warning before Garrick struck Marcus down for questioning his command.

“Any of it really,” Marcus stated from his position with his hip propped on the crude table.  She wondered how the man could be so calm in Garrick’s presence.  “It doesn’t seem wise to move
Cyrille nor does it seem wise for Damien to avenge his brother when his brother needs him right now.  Let King Richard deal with all these heathens.”

Garrick shrugged.

“And I think you will require better treatment as well before the infection kills you.”

Alena
studied him and what Marcus said was true.  The man was ill.  She had come to know his face, before the torture and after, but she had to look close to see the pallor of his skin, the sick redness around his eyes, the shoulders slightly bent.  She did not think these things could be seen by just anyone.  She had the realization it was likely only his closest friend would notice the ever subtle change.

Instead of responding Garrick turned back to study her.

When she felt she could not grow more uncomfortable under his scrutiny, Marcus spoke.  “Alena, as you well know, has a higher price than food and clothes.”

“What business is it of yours?” Garrick responded swinging back to Marcus, his eyes cold as they bore a hole into him.

“I am just concerned Alena was not thinking of her future when she first arrived here.  She did not think of settling a price with you.” 

“Have you named your purchase price?” he asked and the look in his eyes was cold and full of scorn as they fell on her.

She cast a glance to Marcus before straightening her back.  “I would like my own property when my service has ended.”

Garrick cast a glance in Marcus’s direction she could not interpret, before those devil eyes were back on her. 

“I will also need a salary for my time in your service.”

Garrick studied her for a moment before his dark brows snapped together.  “You are a whore.  You should lie under me for just the privilege of it since I have not cut your throat.”

“She is not a whore which you and I both know,” Marcus put in drawing Garrick’s attention.  “She has known only one man in her young life.”

“I suggest you stay out of this,” Garrick said angrily.

Alena was positively shaking in the cloak but Marcus seemed unaffected by the dark man ranting.

“She is still an innocent and should have been told what a woman such as she is worth.”

“How do I know what she is worth unless I take her now,” he said stepping to her.  He grabbed her hands, which were tangled in the cloak, and yanked her against him.

“Because the deal has not been completed and you are not that kind of man.”

Alena was horrified at the confidence Marcus had in that statement.  As the man looked down at her with so much of the desire she had come to recognize as a survival skill, she felt as if she was ready to faint.  He thrust her away from him, turned took two steps away, then turned to her again. 

“Disrobe so I may see what I will be purchasing for all these things you demand,” he said casting a withering look toward Marcus.

Alena looked to Marcus quickly to see his smile fall from his face as he cast furtive glances from one to the other.  She had no choice in the matter for it was as Marcus said, a business arrangement.  The only thing her reluctance would cause was trouble for Marcus who might try to champion her and for herself for not keeping her word.  Slowly she released the front of the cloak and moved her hands upward to the clasp that held it draped to her shoulders.  One glance to Marcus showed he had suddenly found the ground of great interest. 

She allowed the cloak to fall to the dirt and waited.  Long ago she had stopped being uncomfortable with her naked flesh on display. 
Ghalib liked
looking at her and would often make her stand so he could stare at her while another woman, who was more accommodating, pleasured him.  Her eyes locked with Garrick’s and she saw that same lust that frightened her sparking in his black eyes.  Two strides and he was upon her, a hand snaking into her hair with such speed she gasped even before his grip tightened and he pulled her head back.  His other hand clamped onto her breast as he pulled her against him.  He kneaded her flesh for a moment before his hand trailed down her stomach, to her flaring hips then dove into the hair at the juncture of her thighs.  She gasped when his finger entered her at the same time he jerked her head further back.  His eyes studied her face intently.  It lasted only a moment before he released her and stepped away.

“I will leave you to negotiate her price,” Garrick said drawing Marcus’s eyes from the floor.  His jaw seemed to tighten when he watched his commander wipe the finger he had just had inside her on his
surcoat.  Alena was mortified.  “You can see her worth,” Garrick continued, pointing toward her.  “I am going to gather the men to march with Damien on the morrow.  I find I cannot part so quickly from my prize so will travel back.”  Then he was gone leaving her alone and unclothed with Marcus’s eyes on her.

She could feel the warmth of his gaze and wanted to tremble from the feeling of anticipation.  She heard him leave the table and move toward her.  He would touch her.  
Ghalib had told her no man would be able to control themselves in her presence, she did not know this to be true or not, but she had the strangest sensation with the thought that this man she was alone with might not.  She could feel his heat as he stood close to her and she wanted him to touch her.  She wanted it to be his hand she would feel for hours upon her breast.  It was his finger she wanted to feel diving into that deepest part of her.  Then she felt the cloak settle about her shoulders and she felt keen regret that this was the man who would have control. 

Marcus rambled on about sums and holdings until she felt her head would spin.  Finally, seeming satisfied he gave her a number and feeling relieved she agreed to it and the deal was done.  Requesting time to sleep, Marcus lay down on one of the narrow cots and immediately began to snore lightly.  This left
Alena alone to pace the tent quietly. 

Her mind was so occupied with the task of bolstering herself for life with Garrick she did not hear the tent flap open until she turned and saw the man filling the doorway.  He was tall, but what she noticed most was the disarming smile that he bestowed upon her.  It sat crookedly giving her the strong urge to smile back as it crinkled the corners around his blue eyes.  His reddish brown hair looked quite tousled and that too made her want to smile back at this man. 

~   ~   ~

Fool,
she admonished herself.  The man cast a quick glance toward Marcus’s slumbering form before taking a couple steps closer to her while placing a finger upon his lips.  “I am Sir Roland Denwald,” the man whispered.  “Loyal knight to Lord Damien.  I served with he and Cyrille under Lord deMerle, King Henry and King Richard.”  The man was close, his blue eyes twinkling but as she stared into them she became further intrigued by their color.  The right was most definitely blue but the left was a mix between blue and green, had he not stood so close she would have never noticed the subtle differences.  “I am forever in your debt for caring for them.”