Midnight Warrior

by Iris Johansen

  “I don’t resent—” He broke off and then said harshly, “Well, perhaps I do. Why is it important? Are you trying to keep me from using her?”

  Malik shook his head. “I believe you should bed her and be done with it. You will be kinder to her once you’ve sated yourself, and I think she needs kindness.”

  “I’m surprised you’re not asking me to free her.”

  “In a land ravaged by war? She is safer belonging to you. Perhaps later …” He yawned. “All of this chatter is making me tired. Go away. I think I’ll take another nap.…”

  Gage rose to his feet and moved toward the entrance of the tent.

  Brynn was standing by the fire, briskly stirring a mixture in the cooking pot. He stood there, watching her.

  Her arms were firm and strong as they moved in a circular motion. The rising steam made the hair at her temples curl riotously and the wool of her gown cling to her full breasts, delineating her nipples.

  She loves to be touched.

  Tight as a glove.

  Bed her and be done with it.

  He was hardening, readying to the point of pain. He was not even sure at what point he had become aware that he wanted her. That afternoon when he had touched her hair? Yes, he had wanted her then; his palm had tingled as it had touched that silky softness. But he had tried to dismiss it, to go back to that frustration and annoyance he had known before. He did not like wanting a woman with this desperate intensity, feeling that he had to have her.

  Yet why did he keep fighting it? She posed no real danger to him. She was his property. Why didn’t he just pick her up and carry her into that stand of trees and sate himself as Malik had advised him to do? She was no virgin who would faint at the touch of a man. She had been trained to please Richard of Redfern, and he’d wager that whoreson’s tastes were as twisted as his morals. Rage instantly seared him at the vision the thought brought to mind. Jealousy, he wondered incredulously. Impossible. He had never been jealous of any woman.

  “Have you nothing better to do than stand there, gaping at me?” she asked without looking up from the brew she was stirring.

  Irritation jabbed at him. Her words were always sweet and soft for Malik; even with LeFont she was polite. It was only Gage who received the rough edge of her tongue.

  “What are you doing?” Gage grimaced as he saw her tear up leaves and drop them into the pot. “You’re not going to rub that slop on Malik?”

  “Every bit of it.” Brynn stirred the mixture with renewed vigor. “And you need not watch me every minute of every day. Do you think I’m going to poison him?”

  “No.” He shrugged. “But he may think so when you force that on him.”

  “He knows I do only what’s good for him.” She glanced down at the pot. “Even if you doubt me.”

  “How can I doubt you?” Gage asked mockingly. “When Malik assures me you’re either a saint or an angel?” He sat down on the ground and wrapped his arms about his knees. “It would be sacrilege and I would instantly be cast down into hell.”

  She snorted. “I would not think hell would hold any great terror for you.”

  “Does that mean you believe I’m an archdemon?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “But then, you don’t say much of anything, do you? Except to order me about.”

  “I order you about only when it’s necessary for Malik’s well-being. You wanted him cured and I cannot do everything myself.” She moistened her lips. “I want to move him from this place.”

  “He’s not strong enough yet.”

  “I have no intention of moving him any great distance. Just a few miles.” She gestured to the north. “Perhaps to the forest over there.”

  “Why?”

  “It is best.”

  “For Malik?”

  “No.” She hesitated for a moment and then said reluctantly, “For me. This is a bad place. Can’t you feel it?”

  “Feel what?”

  “If you cannot feel it, I can’t explain. I just want to be gone from here.” She paused and then whispered, “Please.”

  He looked at her in surprise. “This must mean a good deal to you. You’re more given to commands than pleas.”

  She didn’t answer.

  “What if I give you what you wish?” He lowered his voice to silky softness. “Will you give me a gift in turn?”

  “I’ve given you a gift. Malik is alive. Isn’t that enough for you?”

  “It should be.”

  “But it isn’t?”

  “Malik will tell you I don’t know the meaning of enough. The prize just over the horizon is always the sweetest.”

  “So you reach out and take it,” she said flatly.

  “Or barter for it. I prefer the latter. It suits my merchant’s soul. I suppose Malik has told you that I’m more trader than knight?”

  “No, he said you were the son of a king and capable of being anything you want to be.”

  “Which obviously did not impress you.”

  “Why should it? It does not matter their station, men are all the same.”

  He smiled. “Certainly in some aspects. You didn’t answer. Will you barter with me?”

  “I have nothing with which to barter.”

  “You’re a woman. A woman always has great bartering power.”

  She straightened her shoulders and turned to look directly at him. “You mean you wish me to be your whore.”

  His lips tightened. “Your words lack a certain delicacy.”

  “They do not lack truth.” She looked down into the pot. “You wish me to part my limbs and let you rut like a beast of the forest. I wonder you even seek to bargain. You think me your slave. Isn’t a slave to be used?”

  “Yes,” he said curtly. “A slave is to work and give pleasure. And you’re right, I don’t have to bargain with you. I can do what I wish.”

  “I’m glad that is clear.” She stirred faster, harder. “Shall we go into the tent now? Or perhaps you wish to take me in front of all your soldiers? I’d be grateful if you’d have the kindness to let me finish preparing this salve that is making your friend well and healthy. But, if I seem unreasonable, you must only tell me and I will—”

  “Be silent!” His teeth clenched, he added, “I’ve never met a woman with such a—”

  “I’m only being humble and obliging. Isn’t that what you want of me?”

  “I want—” He stopped and then said thickly, “I’m not certain what I want … yet. When I do, I’ll be sure you’re made fully aware of it.”

  He turned and strode toward the tent. Suddenly, he halted and whirled to face her. “Who is Selbar?”

  She stared at him in astonishment. “What?”

  “You said you trusted this Selbar,” he said harshly. “Who is he? Your lover?”

  She shook her head.

  “Who is he?”

  She didn’t answer.

  “Tell me!”

  “Why should I?” she asked fiercely. “You think you own my body, but you don’t own my mind. I’ll tell you nothing.”

  He muttered a curse and disappeared into the tent.

  Her hands were shaking, Brynn realized.

  She had known this scene would come since that moment two nights before, but she had never dreamed she would be this frightened. She took a deep breath, steadied her grip on the ladle, and began to stir again.

  She had deliberately taunted him to bring the response Delmas would have given. A blow would have diffused the Norman’s anger and perhaps curbed his lust.

  But Gage had not struck her nor had he used her body. He had contained his anger and walked away. Not a good thing. It meant only that what he was feeling would simmer and grow until she might not be able to control him.

  He would enter her in that terrible way Delmas had done.

  No, it would not be like Delmas. Delmas dwindled into nothingness compared to Gage Dumont. Just the thought of that huge body crouched over her own brought a strange tingling and sen
sitivity into her every limb. If the Norman used her, it would be like being overwhelmed by a giant wave and dashed against the rocks. She was not sure she could survive it.

  She was being weak and foolish. Of course she could survive it. It would be only her body. He could not take anything away from her that was of any real importance.

  Besides, she need not think of that just then. She had skirted the danger for the moment. She would face the next battle when it came.

  “What is in that salve?” Malik wrinkled his nose as she spread the balm over his wound. “It smells to the heavens.”

  “Only boiled-down herbs and water.” Brynn kept her gaze on the wound, carefully avoiding Gage’s stare. Why did he not stop looking at her?

  “What kind of herbs?”

  “You wouldn’t know them if I told you,” she said evasively.

  “I might. My countrymen are far more skilled in the art of medicine than the Franks, and I hardly think the English are more proficient.”

  To distract him, she said quickly, “You think this mixture is odorous? In dire cases the recipe calls for a substitute for the water.”

  “What kind of substitute?” Malik asked warily.

  She tried to keep a smile from tugging at her lips. “Dog urine.”

  “Ugh.” A sudden thought occurred to him. “My condition is not dire now, but it was a few days ago. Did you …”

  “Urine is also highly regarded for cleaning out the bad humors from the inner body. A fourth of a cup mixed with meat broth is said to be absolutely necessary in such cases.”

  “Broth.” Malik’s eyes widened in alarm. “I couldn’t have been that ill.”

  Brynn shook her head mournfully. “You almost died. What else could I do?”

  Malik swallowed hard. “Nothing, I suppose.”

  He looked so stricken, she could not keep on with it. She threw back her head and laughed. “Be at ease. I didn’t use it. I don’t agree that dog urine is necessary to affect a cure.”

  “Thank God,” Malik said fervently.

  “There are other ingredients just as good.” She waited and then asked, “Don’t you want to know what I did use?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  She smiled. “Very wise.”

  “It is?” he asked, dismayed.

  “Your body has been strained enough. I would not have you worrying about things you cannot change.” She finished bandaging the wound. “There. That should hold through the night. I’ll go and get your supper.”

  “I do not believe I’m hungry.”

  “Of course you are.” She rose to her feet and a sudden smile lit her face as she looked down at him. “Rabbit stew and savory herbs and nothing else, I promise.”

  “I’ll get it.” Gage abruptly stood up and moved toward the entrance. “I’d hate to have you interrupt this intimate little chat.”

  She tensed as he brushed by her. In the exchange with Malik she had almost forgotten Gage’s silent presence, but he would not allow himself to be forgotten. He was there, powerful, overwhelming. She said haltingly, “It’s my duty. You need not bother.”

  “If I thought it was a bother, I wouldn’t do it,” he said harshly. “It’s not my custom to do anything I don’t wish to do.” He stood there, looking at her with a scowl. “Besides, I need to talk to LeFont. We’re moving camp at dawn.”

  Her eyes widened in shock.

  “We’re following William?” Malik asked.

  “No, I’m weary of this place. We’re going to set up camp in the forest a few miles distant.”

  “We are?” Brynn whispered, a brilliant smile lighting her face. “Truly?”

  “I said it, didn’t I? Why should I repeat myself?”

  “No reason.” Her tone was nearly lilting. “No reason at all.”

  He hesitated, still staring at her luminous expression before turning and striding out of the tent.

  “I take it that it was your wish to leave this illustrious battleground,” Malik said.

  She nodded, still looking at the place Gage had occupied. “But I didn’t think he’d do it. It’s a good deal of trouble to move a camp, and I had no firm reason.”

  “Then why did you want to leave?”

  “You wouldn’t under—” She met his gaze. Perhaps he would understand. She had never met a more sensitive or gentle person than Malik. “It’s a death place. It makes me sad.”

  He nodded slowly, studying her. “I think it makes you more than sad.”

  She had been right about the sensitivity. In fact, he saw too much. She changed the subject. “I don’t know why he agreed to move. He’s a hard man.”

  “I don’t deny that truth. However, it may be that he wished to please you.” He paused. “Such conduct is common in the mating ritual.”

  She felt heat rush to her cheeks. She had not realized Malik had perceived the sensuality in Gage’s attitude. “A man does not care about a woman’s pleasure when he mates,” she said jerkily. “And I believe your fine Lord Gage has little liking for rituals. He impresses me as a rough man who would just as soon take a woman in a hayfield as a bed.”

  Malik shook his head. “You are wrong. You have seen only the warrior. You will learn that Gage is … much more.”

  “I have no desire to learn more.”

  “You may have no choice,” Malik said gently. “He wants you.”

  “And that is all that matters? A man reaches out and takes because he lusts? What of what I want?” Her hands clenched into fists at her sides. “It’s not fair.”

  “But have you not found that life is seldom fair?”

  “Yes.” She drew a deep breath and forced herself to relax. She knew that anger was futile and was surprised she had lost control. Her emotional responses seemed to be volatile and increasingly intense since she had been thrown into this situation. “That’s why one must sometimes guide it in the right direction.” She turned to face him. “You are not like him. Will you help me?”

  “I will not help you escape. You are safer here with us.” He grimaced. “And if you stay, I will wager you are in Gage’s bed before the week’s end.”

  “I cannot escape yet.” She frowned. “There is a problem at Redfern …”

  “Problem?”

  She ignored the question as she rushed on. “Tell me what he wants.”

  He raised his brows. “If you are not a virgin, then you know what he wants.”

  The heat in her cheeks burned higher. “No, that’s not what I meant. Women are not really important to a man except for that brief moment. I cannot fight him unless I know what he wants.”

  “And you intend to give it to him?”

  “I have to know.”

  “He is my friend. I should not ally myself against him.”

  “I saved your life. You would have died without me.”

  “True.” A mischievous smile lit his bearded face. “And a little conflict in the air always makes life more interesting.”

  She breathed a sigh of relief. “You will help me?”

  “What does Gage want? He already has great wealth and is now a baron.”

  “I did not ask what he has, I asked what he wants. I have never met a man who didn’t want more than he possessed.”

  “You may be as great a cynic as my friend Gage.” He studied her. “No, perhaps not, I think you still want to believe in dreams.”

  “Dreams have nothing to do with this. What does he want?”

  He thought about it. “He thinks he wants to be king.”

  “Thinks?”

  “He was shunned by everyone in the village and then rejected by his father. When you are pressed into the dirt, it’s natural to want to rise to a position where that can never happen again.”

  “But not all men aspire to a throne,” she said dryly.

  “Not all men can rule. Gage has always known his capabilities, which makes his situation all the more frustrating.” He smiled quizzically. “Tell me, sweet healer, can you give a man a throne
?”

  “No, but I might …” She frowned. “Can he be trusted?”

  “What?”

  “Will he keep his word?”

  Malik was staring at her, intrigued. “He can be trusted.”

  “You’re sure?” she persisted.

  “I have staked my life on it many times. Your presence here is only the latest proof,” Malik said quietly. “I have never known him to break his promise.”

  The treasure? Even if she could convince the Norman to give her his promise, it would be a risk. Vows given to women always had less weight than those given to men. And what if he decided not to bargain with her at all and tried to wrest the information from her by force as Delmas had done?

  She shivered as she thought of all that relentless power leveled at her. She did not want to enter the arena with Gage Dumont. Surely she could find another way to escape this situation.

  “You’re afraid,” Malik said. “You need not be. If you go willingly to his bed, he will treat you gently.” He smiled. “And it is not forever. Gage grows bored with women in a very short time. No matter how skilled you are, you will not hold him long.”

  Skilled? She knew practically nothing of bed skills, nor did she wish to learn. However, it was a relief to know that if she could not avoid him, her ordeal would be brief.

  But she would avoid him. She was giving up the battle before it began. Gage Dumont seemed formidable only because she was so weary of fighting. He might be ruthless, but she did not sense the evil in him she saw in Richard. She must look on the Norman as an opportunity, not as a nemesis. “I will not hold him at all.” She added haltingly, “I thank you. You have been kind.”

  “I am always kind. I learned long ago that kindness is the one gift one never regrets giving.” He grimaced. “But I have to warn you, Gage does not always agree with me when the gift causes a great deal of trouble. He accepts but he does not understand.”

  “I am surprised at his acceptance.”

  “Because you know only the warrior,” he said again. “He is also merchant, poet, musician … many things.”

  Well, she would soon become acquainted with the merchant if she decided to barter what she held dearest in this world.

  “But, if you think me kind, you might do me a great favor.” Malik turned mournful eyes at her. “Please?”