Midnight Warrior

  “What do you wish of me?”

  “A promise. Regarding the future ingredients in my stew …”

  She sat in the corner of the tent, combing her hair as she did every evening before she settled for the night.

  Gage watched as Brynn raised her arm and the teeth of the comb bit into the thickness of her fair hair. There was no more sensual sound in the world than the hiss of a comb through the silk of a woman’s tresses, Gage thought.

  Sensual and arousing.

  Once he had her, the torment would be gone. She would be no more to him than the whores who followed the soldiers. He should have done as she challenged him that afternoon and carried her into the trees and had his way with her. Why the devil hadn’t he?

  She smiled at something Malik had said and then reached down to run the comb lightly through his dark beard.

  Fury burst through Gage at the small intimacy. Goddammit, she was always touching him. He jumped to his feet and blew out the flame in the lantern hanging from the post, casting the tent into darkness. But it wasn’t dark enough. He could still see the outline of Brynn’s body hovering over Malik.

  “She was not finished,” Malik protested. “Why did you turn out the light?”

  “It’s time to go to sleep.”

  “Another few moments would not have mattered.”

  “It matters. We break camp at dawn. If she wished to dally all night, she should not have asked to move from this place.”

  “Brynn does not dally and a few minutes is not all—” Malik broke off as Brynn made a motion with her hand.

  “It’s not important,” Brynn said. “You should have told me sooner that I was disturbing you.”

  Her voice coming from the darkness was smooth as honey but without its sweetness. No, it had the bite and strength of a fine ale. “You are not disturbing me.”

  She did disturb him. Everything about her unsettled him. The way she moved, the wariness of the glances she gave him from beneath her lashes that was at odds with the boldness of her speech, the scent of soap and herbs that clung to her …

  “But you said that—”

  “Go to sleep.”

  She hesitated and then slid down to lie beside Malik on his pallet.

  “No!” Gage drew a deep breath and then tried to temper the harshness of his tone. “There’s no reason for you to sleep with Malik. You said he was no longer in danger.”

  “There is reason. It’s not time for me to leave him.”

  “Tell me, do you sleep with all the people you tend?”

  “Yes.”

  “How pleasant for the males of the species.”

  Malik interjected, “Gage, let it—”

  “Leave him.”

  “I will not.”

  Gage stiffened. “You disobey me?”

  “Gage, I am flattered you think I am capable of proving a threat to this fair damsel, but I—”

  “Be quiet, Malik.”

  “Yes, I disobey you,” Brynn said fiercely. “I know what is best for him and I will not leave him until I feel it safe.”

  “And your cuddling close to him makes him safe?”

  She did not speak for a moment, and when she did, the word seemed wrenched from her. “Yes.”

  “And what of your fine herbs and medicines? Would they not do as well?”

  “I don’t—it is not the same—why can you not—”

  “You appear a trifle confused. Perhaps you’re mistaking your own desires for Malik’s needs.”

  “No.” Her voice was shaking. “Don’t you think I would give you this small thing if I could? You are doing me a service in leaving this place and I owe you gratitude. But I cannot—it’s not safe for me to leave him at night yet.”

  “Why not?”

  “Sometimes the dragons come.”

  “Dragons?”

  “Not real beasts. I’m not sure they exist, but there are other dragons. Weakness and infection and …” Her voice lowered to a whisper. “And death. They wait until we are least expecting them and then they pounce.”

  “And you think you can keep these beasts at bay by touching Malik?”

  “I didn’t say that,” Brynn said quickly, a note of panic in her voice. “I never said I could heal by touch.”

  “It sounded very much like it to me.”

  “That would make me a sorceress. I’m no sorceress. God is the only one who can heal.”

  “And yet Malik swears that his cure is almost miraculous.”

  “Leave her alone,” Malik said.

  “Why, when the discussion is becoming so interesting?” He tried to see her expression, but her face was only a pale blur in the moonlit darkness. “Tell me more about these dragons you battle.”

  She did not speak.

  “Or perhaps you’d like to tell me what is in that mixture that healed Malik.”

  “Have you not been listening? He is not healed yet.”

  “But it is the salve that heals him.” “Of course it is the salve.”

  “Good. Then you won’t mind leaving him and sleeping apart tonight.”

  “I can’t—” She broke off and was silent again. She finally said, “I won’t leave him. I cannot help what you think. If you wish to believe I’m a sorceress and cured him by magic, then believe it.”

  “Oh, I don’t believe it. Magic does not exist.” He paused. “But you believe it, don’t you?”

  “If I believed such blasphemy, the church would burn me.”

  “Not if you could perform miracles for their exclusive benefit,” he said cynically. “But fail once, and I fear the stake will have you.”

  “I am not a sorceress. It is the salve.” She added quickly, “And I sleep with your friend because he may wake in distress and need me. It is that simple.”

  “Surely that is reasonable, Gage,” Malik said. “As she said, it is merely a simple desire to protect me from harm.”

  She was not telling the truth and, if she did believe she had magical powers, he could hardly blame her. Witches were either worshipped or despised but always feared. Fear could be a deadly enemy. “Not simple at all.” He lay down on his pallet. “But very interesting. By all means, sleep with Malik … tonight.”

  She settled down again, but he could sense the wariness in her even across the distance separating them.

  She should be wary. She had given him another weapon tonight. Not that he had needed it. She was a slave and he the master. Yet he was beginning to think that he would use every weapon at his command before they were done with each other.

  “Shh,” Malik whispered. “All will be well.”

  He was comforting her, Gage realized with annoyance. Once again Gage was the villain and Malik the gentle knight. Well, why not? It was nothing to him if she thought of Malik as friend and Gage as foe. He did not want her trust or goodwill. All he wanted was to part her thighs and lose himself in her. As he had already concluded, fear was an ally that seldom failed. Let her fear him if it would bring him what he wanted.

  A movement in the darkness; she was drawing nearer to Malik.

  He smothered the fierce surge of rage and forced himself to close his eyes and shut them out. Tomorrow he would take her and be done with it. Then he would not care if she slept again in Malik’s arms.

  Four

  “Is he all right?” Gage paused beside the wagon to look down with a frown at Malik. “How is he standing the journey?”

  “Well,” Malik said quickly. “I feel fine.”

  “Not fine,” Brynn said. “He is tiring. I didn’t think those woods were this far. They looked much closer. Only an hour or so distant.”

  “I am fine,” Malik repeated with a smile. “Journeys always invigorate me.”

  “Perhaps we should have waited another day,” Brynn murmured. “But he slept well and I thought—”

  “We’ll be there in an hour’s time,” Gage interrupted, and wheeled his horse away from the wagon.

  Brynn grimaced as she watched him rid
e away. “He’s angry with me.”

  “Yes.”

  “And rightly. I should have told him you weren’t strong enough to travel.”

  “I’d wager his displeasure has little to do with the state of my health.” He smiled faintly. “And everything to do with the fact that he did not sleep nearly as well as I did last night.”

  “You mean—” She stopped as she realized how stupid she had been. Lust. “Then he deserves to not feel well. I don’t understand why men must always be guided by their nether parts. It would be a much more pleasant world if they would think occasionally, instead of feel.”

  He chuckled. “I realize we are abysmally primitive creatures compared to you sweet damsels. You must forgive us. I am sure God made us that way to guarantee his children would survive on this earth during these perilous times.” His smile faded. “But this particular time is not as perilous for you as you believe.”

  She glanced away from him. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “You were very frightened last night. You did not sleep well either.” When she did not answer, he asked, “Do you have magical powers?”

  “Of course not.”

  He studied her. “You are still frightened. Why? You saved my life. I would never betray you.”

  “You think that now. It could be different later.”

  “Not for me. Trust in me, Brynn.”

  She glanced back at him. She could almost believe him. Dear God, she needed someone with whom to talk. She was so alone.

  What was she thinking? After all the turmoil she had been through, had she learned nothing? She could trust no one. She smiled with an effort. “You heard Lord Gage. There is no magic in this world.”

  A flicker of disappointment crossed his face before he said lightly, “How disappointing. You realize I do not believe as Gage does. My people believe the world would be a dreary place without magic.” He paused. “If you should decide that you do have these powers, you could have no better protector than Gage. He fears neither king nor Pope and would delight in defying them. You would be safe with him.”

  Her gaze went to Gage’s broad, armored back. Safe? She felt as if she could reach out and touch the wall of power and violence surrounding him. Yet what if all that power were used in her defense instead of against her? She was terribly weary of battling alone against odds that seemed insurmountable. If she could strike a bargain …

  “He would be kinder to you than Lord Richard.”

  She glanced back at Malik. “That would be no great feat.”

  “Then give Gage what he wants and accept his protection.”

  He meant go meekly to the Norman’s bed. She should not be disappointed in Malik. He truly wished her well, and it was the bartering tool all men expected women to use. He did not know she had another possible weapon. “Close your eyes and try to nap. You’re talking too much.”

  He sighed. “Which means I’m expounding on a subject you do not wish to discuss.”

  “Talk has no value without the means to act.” She was silent a moment, thinking. “Would he—is Lord Gage—”

  “Is Gage what?”

  “He talks of barter. If I could give him something else he valued very much, would he still demand—service.”

  “What do you have of such value?”

  She ignored the question. “Would he?”

  “Not as a rule.” Then, as he saw her relief, he shook his head. “But the rule may not apply in your case. I have never seen him this eager for a woman.”

  So even if she struck a bargain that involved Gwynthal, she might still have to yield to the act she hated. Was it worth that horror to gain her freedom? She fought down the instinctive revulsion and tried to think clearly. It might not be worth bedding the Norman for her own benefit, but what of Adwen? Copulation for a life. She remembered a song sung by a traveling troubadour in the hall at Redfern wherein the wife of a great lord killed herself rather than submit to the embrace of his enemy. It had been loudly applauded by the assembly. Choosing death before dishonor was entirely fitting for a woman.

  But it was men who chose what was fitting, and fairness had little to do with those decisions. Was it just that a young woman’s life depended on Brynn’s submission? She had kept her body from being used by Delmas, but her instincts as a healer would not permit her to let Adwen perish if yielding it became necessary.

  “Now, what could you have of such value?” Malik murmured.

  She shook her head. If the barter was struck, she had no doubt Gage would reveal everything to him, but habit was too strong for her to tell him herself.

  “Secrets.” Malik smiled. “What a delight you are proving to be. I love secrets.”

  Malik loved every facet of life. It was his most endearing quality. She found herself smiling in return. “Some secrets are not always pleasant.”

  “But always interesting, and you could have no ugly secrets.”

  Fire. Blood. Screams.

  Running through the forest with the beasts in pursuit …

  “Couldn’t I?” She pulled the blanket higher around his shoulders and looked at Gage Dumont. He was a man of secrets and she would wager most of them were laden with intrigue and violence.

  As if he felt her stare, he turned his head and glanced over his shoulder.

  She inhaled sharply and instinctively tensed. She always felt as if he were physically touching her when those icy blue eyes met her own. She felt that sensation of liquid heat and weakness that was becoming maddeningly familiar. It was all very well to objectively weigh the value of submission, but could she do it?

  Of course she could do it.

  His gaze narrowed on her face, and she had the uncanny feeling he was reading her mind. She shut her lids quickly and then realized that the act was too revealing and opened them again and stared at him boldly.

  He smiled and turned and spurred toward the woods.

  They reached the forest a few miles distant from Hastings before noon. The camp was struck on a hill overlooking a pleasant little pond, and Malik gave a sigh of relief when he was comfortably settled on his pallet in the tent. “Ah, this is much better. I believe I have an aversion to wagons.”

  “I’m truly sorry,” Brynn said. “I meant you no harm.” He was a trifle pale and wan but not exhausted. She breathed a sigh of relief. A nap and food and any damage incurred would be fixed. “I’ll fix you a cup of broth and then—”

  “Broth?” His eyes widened in alarm. “I told you I was fine. I have suffered no harm from this journey. On second thought, I’m not really tired at all.”

  “But you said—” Then she understood and began to laugh. “I wouldn’t do that to you.”

  “I am not sure I trust you. I think you would use any means to make me well.” He waved his hand. “Go away and let me sleep. I don’t have the energy to argue at present and I will have to show you later that I have lost no strength.”

  “You are not being—” He had already closed his eyes and she shook her head resignedly. It would do no harm to let him nap first and eat later. A long rest might be the best medicine for him. “As you wish.”

  He opened one suspicious eye. “Such meekness. Are you planning something?”

  “Perhaps.” He deserved a little worry for his lack of faith in her word. She smiled mischievously over her shoulder as she left the tent. “I will start your broth cooking.”

  She heard his groan.

  “You appear pleased with yourself.”

  Her smile instantly disappeared when she saw Gage standing beside the small fire outside the tent. She had not seen him since that instance on the trail, but she had known this moment would come.

  “How is Malik?” he asked.

  “Better than I feared. I don’t think the journey hurt him. But he’s very tired; he’s almost asleep already.” She tried to tear her gaze away from his and failed. She felt … seared. “I need to talk with you.”

  “Talk?” he repeated softly. “That’s not
the need I saw in you a short time ago.”

  “You are mistaken.”

  “No, you are lying.” His lips twisted. “I’m disappointed. I thought you above such subterfuge. Do you wish me to use force so that you may claim virtue later? It is all the same to me.” He took a step toward her. “Just don’t drag the play on too long. My patience is wearing thin. Come along.”

  She took a step back. “Malik. I—was going to make him some broth to eat when he woke.”

  “Later.” His big hand encircled her wrist and he strode away from the tent, pulling her behind him. As they passed LeFont, he tossed out, “Keep an eye on Malik. We’ll be down by the pond.”

  LeFont nodded and smiled. “I’ll make sure you are not disturbed, my lord.”

  Her heart leapt as she stumbled after Gage. It was coming. LeFont knew it. Dear heaven, and she knew it. Think. She had to think. He was not a man driven entirely by lust. Merchant, musician, poet, Malik had said. King. He wanted to rule. A woman was nothing to a man when compared to such a prize. Her breath was coming in short pants as he jerked her into the trees.

  He released her wrist and turned away from her. “Undress.” He took off his cloak and spread it on the leaves carpeting the forest floor. “Be quick.”

  “No.”

  He whirled on her. “What ploy is this?”

  She moistened her lips. “No ploy. I told you I wanted to talk.”

  “Is this a game your Lord Richard taught you?” He pushed her back against the oak tree. “I have no liking for such teasing.”

  “I don’t know how to tease. I’m telling you the truth. I do not want this.”

  “The hell you don’t.” His palm reached out and covered her breast.

  Her heart stopped and then began to pound wildly. She could feel the warmth and hardness through the thin layer of wool that separated his callused hand from her breast, and it was causing a strange change in her body. The nipple was hardening, peaking, and her breast was swelling. She looked down in fascination at his huge hand cupping and squeezing her. She had a sudden desire to know how it would feel to have both his hands on her breasts.

  “The hell you don’t,” he repeated, but the harshness was gone from his tone, leaving only silken sensuality. “I’m not a fool. You want it.” His thumb and forefinger gently pinched her nipple.