by Aston, Alexa
“I cannot take your dagger,” Faylinn protested. “It would only leave you with your sword.”
He smiled, his white teeth gleaming, and bent once more. This time, he reached inside his left boot and withdrew another weapon.
“I am capable of fighting with both hands and so I carry blades in both of my boots.”
“I have watched you fight equally well with either hand in the training yard. How do you manage to do so?” she asked, curious since no other soldier of her acquaintance displayed that unusual skill.
“As most others do, I favored my right hand from birth. Unfortunately, when I was four and ten, I fell from a horse I was taming and broke my right arm. My impatience at not wanting to miss any training led me to take up my sword in my left hand.”
“You trained with a broken arm?” she asked. “Wasn’t that dangerous?”
He grinned. “Probably. But I was young and foolish and had just enough swagger to believe the task possible. When my dominant arm finally healed, I had spent many hours sparring with the left. From that point on, I switched off and trained equally hard with both. I can use any type of weapon in either hand with confidence. Not many knights can claim to do so.”
Sir Drake came toward her and Faylinn rose from the fallen log she’d been seated upon. He extended the baselard and she accepted it with her left hand.
“You’ve already removed your sling,” he protested. “Is your wrist still troubling you?”
“I use my left hand for everything,” she told him. “My mother died giving birth to me. By the time my father realized I never used my right, it was already too late to break me of the habit.”
“It’s a good thing,” the knight said. “It will give you two advantages should you ever need to defend yourself. For one, a man rarely expects a woman to fight back, much less one as beautiful as you. And attacking with your left hand versus your right will be even more unexpected.”
Faylinn felt her face flame at his compliment. Did he really believe her to be beautiful? She glanced down at the knife in her hand, turning it to study it from different angles.
“Ah, very good, my lady,” Sir Drake said. “Not many would examine their weapon so carefully.”
She heard approval in his voice and suddenly wanted him to be proud of her. Holding the hilt, she moved the knife about, getting used to the weight in her hand, even slicing it through the air.
“You need to change your grip slightly,” he suggested as he slipped his blade back into his boot. “May I show you?”
“Of course.”
He moved behind her, his body close, heat radiating from him.
“May I touch you? I want to anchor you.”
“Go ahead,” she told him, eager for his touch, even if only in a lesson regarding weapons.
Sir Drake’s right arm went about her waist, steadying her. His left hand took hers and positioned her fingers around the baselard’s hilt. “Now grip it again. Leave your fingers where I’ve placed them.”
“This feels better,” she agreed. “More natural than the way I held it before.”
Moving his hand to her wrist, he guided her through jabs and thrusts several times, allowing her to grow comfortable with the blade. He released her and moved away, continuing to instruct her, praising her.
“You learn quickly, my lady. Place the blade inside your boot so we may try something else.”
Faylinn did as he asked while he rotated the hares on the fire. Then he came to stand before her.
“We’ll practice now on where to thrust your blade to bring about the greatest harm and immobilize your attacker.”
She chuckled. “I suppose you don’t trust me with a blade in hand while we do this?”
“Not for a moment,” he replied, laughing, and then grew serious. “There are several vulnerable places to lunge toward with a dagger in hand. The belly. In the kidney. The neck. Under the chin. Let’s try a few. Pretend you hold your knife in hand.”
She did so and Sir Drake clasped her wrist. He moved her arm so that she rammed his belly.
“Here’s the best place to strike, dead center.” Guiding her wrist, he dragged it upward, saying, “Once you’ve pierced the belly, jerk upward. You’ll find little resistance.”
“I don’t know if I can do that,” she said, shaking her head reluctantly. “Gutting a man like butchering an animal.”
His gaze held hers. “You will if your life—and that of your child’s—is at stake.”
Determination filled her. “You are correct. There is nothing I wouldn’t do to protect my babe. Even if it means killing a man who threatened me or the child.”
Sir Drake had her repeat the motion several times and then do the same on both sides of his lower back. To do so, she had to step close to him. He smelled of the leather and the wool he wore and the horse he’d ridden. The mix, along with his own particular masculine scent, proved intoxicating. Faylinn frowned, forcing herself to concentrate on the task at hand.
“Good,” he enthused. “Now, for the truly vulnerable places. These will require more room and may not always be possible but I want you to practice them, as well.”
The knight took her wrist again, swinging it in a large arc before slamming it into the side of his throat.
“Again.”
She did so several times on her own and then his fingers closed about her wrist again, bringing it straight under his chin and ramming it.
“Try once more, my lady. With force. You won’t hurt me,” he promised.
Faylinn pictured a threatening stranger and struck with all her might. Sir Drake choked a moment, stepping back and fighting for a breath.
“I am so sorry,” she said, sympathy for him pouring through her.
He swallowed and caught his breath. “Don’t apologize. You are learning a skill which might very well save your life one day.” He glanced to the fire. “Enough for today. The hares look ready.”
She retreated to the log again, this time sitting on the ground and stretching her legs before her while she leaned her back against the log. Sir Drake joined her, handing her one of the skewers. The aroma of the cooked meat wafted toward her, making her mouth water. After letting it cool, she took a bite.
“This is heavenly,” she proclaimed.
“It would be better if I would have had some of my mother’s herbs to use on it.”
They ate in companionable silence for several minutes before she asked, “You have mentioned your parents several times. I know you were close with them. How did you lose them?”
Pain briefly flashed in his eyes and then it was gone swiftly. If she hadn’t been looking directly at him, she would have missed it.
“Father went to his Maker three years ago. We were in the training yard together and he had witnessed a squire who needed correction with his stance and how he swung a sword. The two sparred, with several of the men cheering them on. By the end, the squire had learned his lesson well and Father stepped away. He collapsed and never regained consciousness. He died later that night.”
His words might be dispassionate but Faylinn heard the anguish within them.
“And your mother?”
He shook his head. “I like to think she died of a broken heart. She and Father were unusually close and loved each other deeply. She went the next day. It comforts me to think of them together.”
Without thinking, she lay her hand atop his. “I wish they were here for I would tell them they did a noteworthy job raising such a remarkable man.”
His gaze held hers and Faylinn thought he might kiss her. Then the moment passed and she removed her hand.
“Do you have an idea of where Stanbury is located in Sussex?” Sir Drake asked as he stood and paced about, his hands clasped behind his back. “It’s a very large place.”
“From my best recollection, Ashby said the estate lies south of London and can be reached in a day’s ride or less from the great city,” she replied.
“If Lady Sabelina has sent
riders out to fetch you back to Mallowbourne, they will follow a more northeasterly route to Essex since she believes you might be headed in that direction. Tomorrow, we will begin to angle somewhat so that our paths will diverge from theirs and head east, toward Salisbury and then Winchester.”
“You think she has already sent men after us?”
He nodded grimly. “I do. That is why I have had us keep to the forest the past two nights while we’ve camped and had us skirt the villages we’ve come across. I’m sure the soldiers sent to chase after us will stop in each village they pass and ask its inhabitants if we have come through. Tomorrow, once we alter our course, we shouldn’t cross paths with any soldiers from Mallowbourne. Because of that, we’ll stop at the next village after the crossroads to purchase some food and a few supplies for the rest of our journey. I don’t believe we’ll have to camp out every night. We can stay at an inn or two. Even a monastery if we pass one. I am aware of your delicate condition and will do everything I can to make traveling easy on you.”
“Thank you,” she said graciously.
“I’ll lead Starlight down to the stream for a last drink and then we’ll need to bed down for the night.”
“Will you douse the fire as before?”
“Yes. I’d prefer we not make our presence known to others at this point.”
“May I come with you? I’d like to wash my hands and face. The hare, though delicious, was greasy.”
“Of course.”
Sir Drake retrieved his mount and they walked to the stream they’d discovered when they first made camp. Faylinn washed in the cold water and watched as the knight urged his horse to drink. Foolish ideas danced in her head, ones which would embarrass him if he knew what she thought upon. They also confused her. This attraction to the man who was bent on protecting her needed to be forgotten.
Yet how could she ever forget a man such as Drake Harcourt? Kind. Handsome. Honorable. Protective. She never would successfully make it to her brother’s estate without this man’s help.
They returned to the camp and he kicked dirt repeatedly into the fire until the blaze died out. Faylinn lay down next to it, hoping the slight lingering warmth would help her to fall sleep. She tightened her cloak about her and closed her eyes.
Hoping to dream of the dark knight with dazzling blue eyes.
Chapter Ten
Drake awoke, finding his arms still about Lady Faylinn. He’d been close enough to her after they’d bedded down for the night to see her trembling in her sleep. A cold wind had blown in, more like blustery January than the beginning of April, and he’d wanted to warm the baroness.
Or so he’d told himself.
In truth, he wanted much more. He longed to tell her how his admiration for her had blossomed into something he dare not name. How he wished he could offer for her and make her his. The intense physical desire for her had grown rapidly and he fought to keep from touching her. Until now. Drake knew he should move away. He should release her before she awakened. Yet Faylinn d’Albert fit against him as a hand did inside a glove.
His lips moved against her hair briefly. It would be the only kiss he could ever give her. Though a widow, she might be mother to the next Baron of Gaynesford. He was but a lowly knight, one without a farthing to support her. Lady Faylinn would wed again to a man more suited to her than Drake could ever be. He must set aside such foolish notions. The baroness deserved far better than he could ever give her—or her child.
Savoring the feel of her for a moment longer, he reluctantly withdrew his arms from her and rolled away. The movement caused her to stir. She turned from her side onto her back and stretched lazily before opening her eyes.
“Oh! Good morning, Sir Drake. Have you been awake for long?”
She pushed herself to a sitting position and her belly growled noisily, causing her to giggle. The lighthearted sound warmed his heart.
“I would hunt for us again but I believe we are close to another village. We can stop to buy some food there. It should be safe.”
They attended to their needs and Drake watered Starlight once more before they set off. By now, after traveling the past few days together, they felt comfortable sharing the saddle. They took a fork in the road to the right to bear in a more southeasterly direction. It took almost three-quarters of an hour before they reached a good-sized village which had come to life. As they rode along its main thoroughfare, he told her they should alter their names when in the presence of others, just in case a stray soldier took a different path and hunted for them before rejoining his party.
“Who will you be?” she asked, a smile dancing on her lips. “I know. Sir Michael. Michael was the archangel and protector of Israel. You are my protector—and therefore, Sir Michael.”
He smiled. “Do you also have a name for yourself?”
She pondered. “It’s rather hard thinking of myself as anyone but Faylinn. What do you suggest, Sir Michael?” she asked, her lips twitching in amusement.
“Lady Mary,” he replied. “Mary is a common name, unlikely to be remembered as Faylinn would. And Mary also carried a child in the Bible, as you do.”
She laughed. “I don’t think I’m close to being perfect as the Holy Mother is.”
“But Mary and Michael will be easy for us to remember. You are a widow whom I am escorting to her childhood home, where your father has chosen a new husband for you. It’s close enough to your true story yet different enough as to not arouse suspicion from anyone who seeks you.”
“Very well, Sir Michael. I leave myself in your capable hands.”
Drake’s mouth went dry, thinking of his hands running over her naked body. He slowed Starlight and dismounted quickly and then helped Lady Faylinn to the ground.
They found the local baker and bought several loaves of bread, moving along to buy cheese and fruit, as well. He had the blacksmith inspect Starlight’s shoes and the man replaced one. Seeing the smithy had three horses in a fenced area beside his work shed, Drake asked if they could pay for a bit of fresh oats for his horse to eat.
“Certainly. Lead your horse into this vacant stall and he can have his fill.”
After seeing to Starlight and removing the satchel, Drake told the blacksmith they would return in an hour.
“We might as well stretch our legs a bit, Lady Mary,” he said and led Faylinn away from the shed and along the street.
They located an inn and sat in the main room, where the innkeeper’s wife brought them steaming bowls of stew and two loaves of freshly-baked bread. Drake downed three bowls of the stew and Faylinn ate one and half of another. He eyed her leftovers and she pushed the bowl toward him, failing to hide her amusement. Finishing the stew, he sopped the remaining juices up with the last of the bread. They returned and claimed Starlight and then left the village behind with their additional food supplies.
Drake had shared that he wanted to make up some time today and asked Lady Faylinn to tell him if the horse went too fast for her comfort.
“You may have us travel as quickly as you’d like, Sir Drake. You are considerate and always make sure that I’m secure in the saddle. It might be different if I were heavy with child but it’s still early. I haven’t experienced any discomfort yet.”
They rode the better part of the day until late afternoon when they found a bridge out.
“We’ll have to wade across the river,” he said, climbing from the saddle. “I’ll hold Starlight’s reins and lead him. You need to hold tight to the saddle horn.”
“Could we find another place to cross?” she asked anxiously. “I . . . I do not know how to swim.”
“It would take time to locate another bridge and might take us far out of our way. You won’t need to swim, my lady,” he assured her. “Just hold fast. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
Drake guided the horse down the embankment and studied the river’s current a moment. “It’s swift but the distance across isn’t too great.” He patted his horse. “Come on, Starlight. It
looks as if you’ll have yourself a bath today.”
“Is it too cold for him?” the noblewoman asked nervously.
“The weather is cool but he’ll be fine. Here, let me tuck your skirts under you.”
He gathered them and slipped them under her legs. “The bottom of your hems might get wet. Once we’re across, we can make camp for the night. I’ll build a fire and allow any wet clothing to dry.”
“A fire would be nice,” she admitted. “Last night proved cold. Until you kept me warm,” she added.
Embarrassment filled him. “I’m sorry I did not have your permission, my lady,” he said stiffly.
“No, I thank you for taking such good care of me.” She smiled sweetly.
He looked away, pretending to study the river again and then asked, “Are you ready?”
She nodded and he stepped into the water, leading Starlight. Though spring had supposedly arrived, he sucked in a quick breath the moment the frigid water covered his feet. Slowly, he tugged on the horse, which followed him further into the river. The current had appeared swift and remained so. Drake moved slowly, the water gradually rising up his calves, to his knees, and eventually his waist. He glanced up at Lady Faylinn, who looked straight ahead, her knuckles white as she gripped the saddle horn.
Taking another few steps, the water rose quickly to the tops of his shoulders. Thank goodness Starlight was seventeen hands. Drake saw Lady Faylinn’s lower legs were submerged and she shivered.
“We’re almost at the halfway point,” he told her and took another step.
A sudden drop-off caught him unaware. He tightened his hold on the reins as he floated next to the horse, treading water.
“I’m afraid, Sir Drake.” Her voice was small and tight.
“You are the bravest woman I know, my lady,” he said calmly, fighting his own fear as his gaze met hers.
He treaded water a moment longer and then turned onto his belly, stroking with his left hand and kicking his legs while maintaining his hold on the reins. The current increased and without warning, Starlight stumbled—and suddenly disappeared.
