The Warrior and the Dove - A Short Novel (Medieval Chronicles) (4 page)

For a moment
longer he held her gaze, as though he would compel her by sheer force of will.
She felt the unrelenting purpose she had seen in him yesterday, surging against
her small protest like an incoming tide, before he put her gently from him and
rose to pace over to the window.

“Then I’ll have
to come up with a reason to change your mind,” he said, propping himself
against the window ledge. His fingers flexed once around the wood on either
side of his hips. “Because I do not intend to return to my lands without you.”

“Oh?” she said,
the spirit he’d just mentioned raising its head. She might want to go with him
with all her heart, but she would not be carried off if she didn’t think it
right. “You can hardly stay here until my memory returns.”

“Then we’d
better see what we can do to bring it back,” he retorted. And grinned briefly
at the doubtful look she gave him.

There was
something ruthless about that quick, predatory grin, she decided. The hunter in
him had been roused. He would track down her missing memory as he would a
precious heirloom that had been stolen from him. And not rest until he found
it.

“Come,” he said,
holding out an imperative hand. “We’ll find Martin and Herleve and see what we
can come up with together.”

*         
*          *

A few minutes
later they were all sitting around the kitchen table, sampling Herleve’s
honeyed pears while Martin told them a humorous tale about a customer who had
changed his mind three times in a day about the fletching of his arrows.

Annith wasn’t
listening. She was too quiet, Hugh decided, but he had wanted her to have this
small space before he started questioning her. And, if he was honest with
himself, he needed to have other people around them for a while. One tiny taste
of that soft mouth had had all his senses straining at the leash for more. But
he wanted to gentle her to his touch, give her time to grow used to him.

He’d managed to
surprise himself with that ambition. With other women he’d made sure they were
pleasured, but he hadn’t wasted time in lengthy pursuit. He had expected little
difference when it came to his future wife. Marriage was a business. It had to
do with acquiring lands, wealth, and advantageous connections. Most girls of
gentle birth were aware of that fact. They expected to submit to a husband’s
demands, bear his children, and run his household in an efficient manner.

With Annith
everything had been turned on its head. As far as anyone knew, she had no
lands, she brought him no dowry, and she hadn’t even seemed to notice his
interest in her until he’d walked into the solar this morning. Such complete
and utter innocence had tethered him as nothing else could. But then she had
trembled in his arms and he’d had to put the width of the small room between
them until he was sure of his control.

And that control
was still teetering on the brink, he realized, when he looked across at Annith
in time to see her lick a drop of pear juice from her finger with a delicate
swipe of her tongue. He closed his eyes, but it was too late. His body was
already hardening to the imagined caress of that little tongue.

It was past time
to think of something else.

He caught
Martin’s eye and the fletcher nodded. “Where do you want to start, my lord?”

“With what we
know.”

Annith looked
up. “That isn’t much.”

“On the
contrary,” he said. “For a start, we know there are nuns involved. Remember when
I remarked on your piety yesterday? ‘I doubt the nuns at—’ you said, and added
they would stare to hear you were pious; which makes me think you’ve spent
enough time in a cloister for the sisters to know you well. You may even have
been reared in one.”

“Oh!” she said,
startled. Then, on a note of discovery, “Aye. I do remember a nun…Sister
Margaret.” Her face lit with delight, but an instant later clouded over again.

“Don’t try to
force it. We’ll put the theory to the test. If you were raised in the cloister
’tis likely you were taught to read.” At his signal, Martin got up and went
into the shop. He came back with a piece of vellum and handed it over. Hugh
glanced at it then placed the sheet in front of Annith.

She looked down.
“I
can
read!” she exclaimed, and leaned closer. “I think you’ve been
over-charged for these feathers, Martin. Grey geese are not rarities.”

Hugh smothered a
shout of laughter as Martin’s jaw dropped.

“And I can write
and figure, as well,” Annith said. “I
was
in a convent. I was taken
there as a small child, and—”

The words came
to an abrupt halt. She pushed the vellum toward Martin with a sigh. He smiled
and patted her hand encouragingly.

“Could they have
brought pressure to bear on you to become a novice against your will?” Herleve
asked. “Was that why you fled? If indeed you did.”

“I don’t
feel
’twas so,” she answered uncertainly.

“I doubt you ran
from your convent,” Hugh said. “Martin told me you were in boy’s clothes, and
you certainly didn’t get those in a cloister. Do you remember a journey, or—”

She drew in a
sharp breath, staring at him.

“Close your
eyes,” he said softly. “Think about a journey.” When her lashes lowered, he
asked, “Are you riding?”

“Nay, walking,
running. All last night…today…” Her voice took on a dreamy note as though she
spoke only to herself. “’Tis farther than I thought—on foot.”

He was about to
ask where she’d started from, when her lips parted. The almost silent whisper
that emerged raised the hair at his nape.

“
Stay away
from the roads
.”

Hugh held his
breath. He had the feeling that Herleve and Martin were doing likewise.

“So many leaves
falling,” she murmured. “Winter will be early this year.” She frowned. “There’s
another road. I think I have to cross it.”

“Why?” he asked.

“To go north. Don’t
wait for nightfall. I need to find somewhere to sleep. A barn, or…”

He exchanged a
grim look with Martin. “Are you alone?”

“Aye.
Nay!
”
Her eyes flew open and she jerked back on her stool. “Nay. There were boys
coming along the road. I hadn’t heard them until then. They saw me and waved. I
thought it best to stand. If I’d run—”

Hugh shoved to
his feet so violently his stool fell backward with a crash. He saw Herleve give
a startled jump, but, thankfully, she remained silent.

“What happened?”
he ground out, forcing himself to stillness. The only thing stopping him from
seizing Annith and dragging her across the table into his arms was the quick
fear on her face when he’d moved. But it was gone in a flash, and her gaze
clung to his as if he was the only anchor in her world.

“I remember,”
she whispered. “They greeted me as they would a friend. They thought I’d come
from some manor to join them. They were boisterous and worked up about
something, but I wasn’t afraid. I kept my hood well forward and made my voice
gruff, and they were too intent on reaching their goal to bother about one not
familiar to all. I think they assumed if one group didn’t know me, another
would.”

Somehow Hugh
managed to keep his voice level. He knew, now. Knew what was coming and dreaded
it. “And then?”

“More boys
joined us along the way.” Her gaze turned inward as memory returned. “I tried
to stay on the edge of the crowd, hoping to slip into the forest unnoticed. But
before I had a chance, we came to a field, and men were there with horses. One
man kept riding up and down, shouting and getting the boys more excited. Nay,
not excited, they were angry now. Then he motioned to everyone to follow him,
but before we went more than a few yards, men on horseback charged at us from
the trees.”

Hugh closed his
eyes. His hands were gripping the edge of the table so hard he wondered the
wood didn’t splinter. He had led that charge. Never mind that as soon as he’d
seen who they were closing with, he’d signaled his mounted knights to veer off
toward Corbel’s horsemen, while his foot soldiers engaged the youths. For some
of those boys it had been too late.

“I tried to get
away, but someone struck me,” she went on. “I remember falling and being unable
to move.”

“Holy Mother
Mary,” Herleve breathed. “But, child, you must have managed to get away from
the battle. Martin found you in the forest.”

“Aye.” She
shivered. “I woke up and couldn’t move. I could barely breathe because I was
face down in the grass, and— Oh! Mayhap that’s what brings on my dreams,” she
exclaimed. “I tried to get up and couldn’t, and then I realized I was beneath
two boys. They must have fallen when I did. Fallen dead, or senseless,” she
added, as though taking care to be accurate. “The fighting had moved off a
little way by then and I managed to free myself. I wasn’t sure if I could
stand. Everything was dark and hazy and the ground kept tilting beneath me, so
I crawled into the forest as far as I could go.”

She looked at
each of them in turn. “That’s all I know,” she said with devastating
simplicity, “until I woke up here.”

Hugh couldn’t be
still a moment longer. Every possible disaster that could have befallen her was
running through his mind in hideous detail. He was never going to forget her
story as long as he lived.
She could have been killed.

Unclenching his
hands from the table, he strode around to the other side, seized Annith by the
wrist and hauled her off her stool.

“We’ll be back
in a minute,” he said to Martin and Herleve. And towed her after him into the
shop.

Annith only had
time for a small startled squeak, before the door closed behind them and she
was in his arms.

“Don’t be
afraid,” he said, when she stiffened instinctively, her hands braced against his
chest. “I need to hold you. When I think about what might have happened—” He
broke off, pulling her closer. “I need to know that you’re safe, that you’re
here, warm and alive,
mine
.”

She barely heard
him in her struggle to control her reeling senses. She had never been held by a
man before in her life. She certainly didn’t remember this feeling of being
uncomfortably crushed.

And if she had
ever imagined such an embrace, she didn’t think this was what she’d had in
mind.

She tried an
experimental wriggle.

Hugh raised his
head and looked down at her. “What—?”

“I can’t
move
.”

To her relief,
some of the tension left his face and he smiled. His hold loosened a little.
“Put your arms around my neck.”

“Oh.” Carefully
she shifted her hands to his shoulders. The power she felt there had her
fingers flexing in tentative, delighted discovery, before she wound her arms
about his neck. She had to stand on tiptoe to do it. The position immediately
brought her body against his.

Her lips parted
on a sigh of pure pleasure and her eyes half-closed as she savored the male
heat and strength that supported her.

“You, sweet
innocent, are going to drive me right over the edge,” he muttered.

“’Twas you who
seized me,” she protested, looking up at him. Then sighed. “But embracing like
this feels far too pleasurable to be permitted, so you’d better let me go. The
nuns were forever telling us that we must stay untouched, and we seem to be
touching in a lot of places.”

“You can rid
your mind of what the nuns said,” he ordered, but now his voice was
unbelievably tender. “Between husband and wife anything that gives pleasure is
allowed.”

“But we’re not—”

“Not yet, but we
will be husband and wife. You have to marry me, or I’ll never have a moment’s
peace wondering whether you’re running about the country getting into God knows
what sort of trouble.”

She narrowed her
eyes at him. “That, my lord, is not fair.”

“I know, but
right now I can’t think of anything else to convince you.”

She laughed a
little at that, although it was a struggle to keep a wistful note out of the
small sound. “But I haven’t remembered everything. I still don’t know who I am
or where I came from. Or if I’m already married,” she finished forlornly,
letting her brow rest against his shoulder.

“If you aren’t a
virgin, little maid, I swear I will change my sword for a monk’s habit.”

“And if I am not
a maid, I will don a nun’s robe,” she murmured.

She didn’t have
time to realize the meaning behind those unguarded words. Hugh tilted her face
up to his with one hand and brought his mouth down on hers.

All the strength
left her legs. A tide of sweet hot pleasure took its place. His mouth was hard
and demanding, his arms iron bands holding her locked against him. She felt the
touch of his tongue and parted her lips without thought. And with a low growl
deep in his throat that set every nerve quivering, he was tasting her, enticing
her to respond with gentle forays of his tongue, and all she could do was go
limp against him, while she trembled in response to the intense sensations winging
through her body.

When he finally
lifted his head, she thought she would feel the force of that kiss forever,
through her entire body, as if he had marked her as his.

“I don’t think
either of us need worry about taking holy vows,” he said, his gaze holding
hers. “Except those we exchange before a priest.”

He was
relentless. How could she make any decisions when she was still shaking with
desires and needs she had never felt before? And what of him? Would a man marry
a woman he knew nothing about merely because she was running from something?
Was it only gallantry on his part?

“How can I
answer you?” she asked, trying to put her confusion into words. “All this is
beyond my knowledge. I don’t know why you would want to do this for me?”

“I know you don’t
understand,” he murmured. “But you’ll know more of me after we’re married. You
just need to trust that I’ll never hurt you.”

She did know
that, Annith thought. She did trust him not to hurt her physically, but he was
asking her to put her
entire
trust in him, and from some ancient well of
feminine wisdom came a nudge toward caution. She sensed there might be a
different risk involved here, something she couldn’t name.

Before she could
try to explain, Hugh bent and kissed her lightly on the lips. “We had best
return to Martin and Herleve,” he said, releasing her and taking her hand.
“They’ll be wondering what’s happened to us.”

How could he be
so calm after that kiss, Annith wondered, as she followed Hugh into the
kitchen. She still felt shaken, utterly overwhelmed. And yet…from the moment he
had taken her in his arms, she had also felt cherished.

Herleve turned
from the large cooking pot simmering over the fire and smiled at them as they
entered. “Well?” she asked, as if everything should now be settled.

Martin looked up
with an expectant air.

What was she
supposed to say? ’Twas obvious
they
trusted Hugh without reservation.
And she didn’t know how to put her doubts into words.

Her lips parted,
she almost spoke, almost said that she must stand firm against him. But then
she remembered the note in Hugh’s voice when he had swept her into his embrace.
He was risking something, too, she realized suddenly. As far as he knew she
could agree to marry him simply for protection, or to escape whatever terror
was snapping at her heels. He didn’t even know what he might have to confront
on her behalf.

“What if I bring
danger to you?” she asked sharply, fear putting an edge on the words.

He merely
quirked a brow. “Does this concern for my safety mean you’re going to marry
me?”

“Nay!” She
almost stamped a foot in frustration at the black void in her mind. “How can I?
If only I could remember. I remember meeting those boys, and being in a
convent. Why can’t I recall what hap…what hap…” She broke off with a gasp, pressing
a hand to her stomach as nausea struck. Then, gritting her teeth, got out, “What
happened in between.”

Hugh had an arm
around her in an instant, drawing her close. “Do you turn as white as a wraith
whenever you try to remember?” he demanded, his face grim.

“That she does,”
Herleve said, moving quickly around the table to help him lower her onto a
stool.

“But I didn’t
feel sick when I spoke of the battle,” Annith protested. “Or of walking through
the forest. So why now?
Why
?”

 “Don’t try
to remember now,” he said gently, hunkering down before her and chafing some
warmth back into her hands. “You should rest. I have to return to the castle in
any case; another line of petitioners will be forming. But I’ll be back this
evening.”

Suddenly she
felt so weary she could have put her head down on the table and slept right
there. But she summoned a smile and nodded.

Hugh lifted her
fingers to his lips and kissed them. “Remember you’re no longer alone in this,”
he murmured, and rose to his feet.

A quick word to
Martin and Herleve, and he was gone.