Dangerous

by Hawthorne, Julia

Elisabeth’s lovely face softened in the way only a woman’s can, and Eric berated himself for saying so much. Confiding in her was the most dangerous thing he could do. For both of them.

  Once she finished her stitching, she rose to stand before him. “Your clothes are drenched from the rain. They’ll dry fastest in the kitchen.”

  She held out her hand, but he firmly shook his head. “I’ll not remove them in your presence.”

  “I’m a widow with three brothers,” she reminded him with a laugh. “Nothing about you could possibly surprise me.”

  In response, he folded his arms and stared back at her.

  “Very well, then,” she ceded in an exasperated tone. “The clothes Bowen loaned you are still here in the keep. I’ll return with them shortly.”

  “I would very much appreciate that, milady.”

  After casting a puzzled look at him, she strolled from her chambers, closing the door behind her.

  ***

  At last, he slept.

  Eric lay on Elisabeth’s bed, bare but for the woolen throw wrapped about his waist. She assumed that he’d stretched out there, thinking to get up again. He must be completely exhausted to fall asleep so quickly.

  She’d brought him Bowen’s freshly laundered clothes and the very best of their evening meal. Tender goose filled the wooden trencher beside a bowl steaming with vegetable pottage. Alongside lay a small loaf of bread still warm from the ovens. She smiled as she noticed that the pewter spoon had been turned over. To keep out the Devil, tradition said. Though Scotland had long ago embraced Christianity, many stubbornly clung to the old ways.

  Elisabeth put the tray on a table, keeping her back to the nearly naked man in her bed. She hadn’t expected to see him again, and the joy she felt baffled her. She barely knew him, yet he fascinated her in a way she didn’t entirely understand. Doing her best to ignore him, she straightened her already tidy bedchamber, rearranging the books on the tables while she wrestled with temptation.

  Then again, what harm could there be in looking?

  She stole across the floor, careful not to make a noise that might wake him. Presented the opportunity to inspect him so closely, she took in every masculine detail. His long, well-muscled legs, massive chest and even more massive shoulders. A work of art he was, flesh and bone sculpted with power, bronze skin marred by the scars of a warrior.

  One on the left side of his chest had healed badly, and she puzzled over it. Roughly the shape of a cross, it seemed to have been purposefully carved into his skin. Elisabeth sensed someone watching her and looked into eyes that were a murky storm of blue and gray. Eric said nothing, but she felt his apprehension as if it were her own.

  “You’re a Templar,” she whispered.

  “No, but I squired for one.”

  “When you were in the Holy Land.”

  He nodded, and she covered the angry scar with her palm, wishing she could erase the pain he must have felt. He flinched at the contact, and she pulled her hand away. “Who did this to you?”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “Doesn’t matter?” she echoed in disbelief. “Eric, that man tortured you.”

  “He was but one of many in France determined to destroy the Templars. There were rumors of trouble, but they trusted in the Pope to save them. In the end, King Phillip’s will prevailed. He wanted what they’d built, and he devised a way to take it.”

  “By arresting the brethren on false charges.”

  “I was one of the men sent to do it,” Eric confessed in a voice laden with disgust. “But I couldn’t carry out my orders, no matter who issued them. Instead, I let a dozen or so escape. The captain of the guard told me if I loved the Templars so much, I could rot in the dungeon alongside them.”

  “How long did they hold you?”

  “Nearly two months. When they offered to spare my life in return for a confession of heresy, I gave it to them.”

  From her father’s impassioned conversations on the subject, Elisabeth knew something about the fate of the famous warrior monks. “Did they send you to a monastery?”

  “Oui.” He paused as if debating how much to tell her, then continued. “The place was far from secure, and once I regained my strength, I left. I retrieved Micah and bartered our passage to England.”

  “Retrieved,” she repeated with a smile. “From the king’s stables, no doubt.”

  “I reclaimed what was rightfully mine. Unfortunately, doing so made me a thief as well as a heretic.”

  “You canna go back.”

  He shook his head, and she frowned at the prospect of never being able to return home. How lost he must feel, forced to make his way alone, adrift in a sea of strangers.

  “That was a year ago,” she prodded, anxious to hear the rest of what must surely be a remarkable story. “Where have you been all this time?”

  “Many places,” he said in a defeated tone. “Avoiding people.”

  “Like me?”

  Gazing intently at her, he lifted the corner of his mouth in a wry expression. “You I could not ignore.”

  A warmth came into his eyes, and her heart tripped over itself in girlish delight. With his secret entrusted to her, the lingering unease she felt about him vanished.

  “Eric, you’ll be safe here, I swear it.” She longed to take his hand to reassure him but feared he’d pull away from her as he’d done before. “What befell the Templars is appalling. My father and The Bruce would have done what you did without a second thought.”

  His eyes narrowed, and he regarded her warily. “I was betrayed by my own king. Why should I trust yours?”

  The sheen on his skin told her a fever was beginning to set in, and she rose from the bed. “We’ll talk later. For now, you should rest.”

  “No one else can know who I am.” Reaching out, he gripped her hand as she moved away. “You must promise not to tell anyone.”

  What he was asking of her contradicted everything she’d been taught. Above all, her father valued loyalty. But Eric’s faith in her was fragile at best, and she’d do nothing to endanger it. “I promise.”

  She added a reassuring smile, and some of the dread left his eyes. When she bent to kiss his brow, she was pleased that he didn’t draw back.

  “Codladh sámh, Eric. Sleep well.”

  ***

  Eric woke to the pale colors of a misty sunrise. Hearing a soft murmur, he turned his head to find Elisabeth asleep on the settee near the bed.

  One sleeve of her dressing gown had fallen, revealing the graceful slope of her shoulder. The lacings had worked open, tantalizing him with a glimpse of the smooth, swelling curve of her breast. With each breath she took, the gap widened, revealing a hint of rosy skin.

  Against his will, Eric imagined his tongue brushing across the tip as he drew it into his mouth. Felt her body arch, moving in rhythm with his own. Sighing with pleasure, moaning his name, until the sensual tide swept them both away.

  The warmth of her beckoned to him, tempting him beyond reason. He didn’t know how long he lay there, mesmerized by the sight of her, his blood singing with desire. Eric wrenched his gaze from her, forcing himself to stare at the rich canopy above his head. With great effort, he slowed his breathing and reined his runaway heart into an uneasy trot.

  “Eric?” Her voice was frantic as she rushed to his side. “Tell me, what’s wrong?”

  When she leaned over him, her breasts were within easy reach, inviting him to fill his mouth with warm, soft flesh. It cost him dearly to reach for the open bodice and pull the edges closed. He forced his fingers to tie the lacings, knotting them tightly to prevent their slipping again.

  Merde, he swore silently. He’d surely go mad if she had nothing else to wear.

  She blushed a becoming shade of pink, even as her eyes sparkled with amusement. “My apologies.”

  “’Twas no fault of yours, milady,” he said in as mild a tone as he could manage.

  Smiling, she held a hand to his forehead. “How do you fare
this morning?”

  “Much better.”

  “Your fever is down but not gone. Can you stomach more of my tea?”

  When he nodded, she moved to go. Before he could stop it, his hand flashed out to catch her arm. Though he withdrew, her astonished expression demanded an apology.

  “Forgive me. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

  “You wish for me to stay?” He nodded again, and she smiled. “Glenda will be here shortly. I’ll send her to the kitchen for your tea.”

  “I don’t wish to trouble anyone.”

  “What troubles me,” she said as she smoothed the bedcovers and sat beside him, “is why that man would attack you in the bailey that way. Do you know?”

  “After I left the funeral, I overheard some men in the forest plotting a way to attack Caileann Castle and returned to warn your father. I took a winding route, but one of them must have followed me here.”

  He debated whether to tell her Timothy had been at the cave but decided against it. The man was dead, after all, and knowing who he’d been would only bring her more worry.

  “This is the second time you’ve stepped between me and disaster,” she told him in a gentle tone. “I owe you more than I can ever repay.”

  In truth, her grateful smile was all the reward he needed.

  ***

  Never had Eric been so bored.

  He’d been abed for two days now, and the inactivity was beginning to wear on him. He’d counted the strands in the tapestry hanging on the wall above his head, amused himself guessing which games the children were playing in the courtyard below.

  Rest, Elisabeth had told him, brushing her lips over his forehead before leaving. He’d dozed fitfully, his leg protesting whenever he shifted position. So he lay flat on his back, following the swirling pattern of the canopy as he would a map. He’d just reversed his course to go in the other direction when the door swung open. Elisabeth entered, carrying a tray whose contents filled the room with aromas that made his stomach rumble insistently.

  “Hungry, are you?” She laughed, setting the food on the table beside the bed. “These should all settle well in your stomach, so you may have whatever pleases you.”

  Eric thanked her as he reached for a steaming bowl.

  “’Tis healing nicely,” Elisabeth announced as she assessed the dressing on his leg. “A few more days, and I’ll be satisfied.”

  A few more days? He’d be asylum fodder by then.

  He managed to stifle the ungrateful words, but his quiet sigh didn’t escape his sharp-eared nurse. She pulled back to look at him. “You’re bored.”

  “I’m not accustomed to lying about with nothing to do.”

  “I understand that well enough. Mother doesn’t require much help from me, so I often feel useless here. Were it not for you, I’d have very little to occupy me.”

  “I could have Christian hack up my other leg if you’d like.”

  “Certainly not!” The humor in his eyes made her laugh. “I’ll miss your company, but I’m pleased you’re mending so quickly.”

  “’Tis from your fine care. In time, I’ll barely notice the scar.”

  Elisabeth could see it in her mind, from the many times she’d cleaned and tended his wound. “It’s healing in the shape of a crescent moon. Much like—”

  When she paused, he regarded her with an expectant look. Foolishness, the flutter that passed through her. Brought on by fatigue, no doubt. “Much like mine.”

  “You have such a scar?”

  “Oh, no. I was born with mine.” She rested a hand at her right hip. “Here.”

  “A faery mark.” The eyes that met hers gleamed with fascination. “So you are one of them.”

  The very thought of it made her laugh. “No, just an ordinary person.”

  “Not so ordinary, milady.” Blazing with sincerity, his eyes held hers fast. “You possess a remarkable spirit and a caring heart. Very few can claim either one.”

  Her cheeks warmed in response to his praise, and she murmured her thanks.

  Looking to the bedside table, Eric nodded at the book lying open there. “What is it you’re reading?”

  “Stories about Odin, an ancient Norse god.”

  He gave her a curious look. “Not Christian tales?”

  “I have those as well.” She crossed the room to her tall bookshelves, grateful for an excuse to move away from the bed. At times, it was all she could do to keep herself from curling up beside him. “Would you care to hear some?”

  “Claire used to read stories to me when I was home. I miss it greatly.”

  “I hear so much admiration in your voice when you speak of her,” Elisabeth said wistfully as she sat on the edge of the bed. “I once thought I’d have that, but I married for other reasons.”

  “Many nobles do. ’Tis a shame.”

  In so many ways, she added silently. But to him, she said, “Now that I’m a widow, I canna wander through the rest of my life. At one time, I considered joining the abbey nearby, thinking it would give my life purpose.”

  “And now?”

  Though he didn’t touch her, the gentleness of his tone passed over her like a caress. In her memory, she felt the strength of his arms around her, comforting, protecting. By confiding the truth about himself, he’d entrusted his very life to her, and it was no hardship to imagine him remaining in her bed. Night after night, filling the long, lonely hours with the passion she’d longed for but never experienced.

  But she couldn’t tell him that. He’d bolt like a spooked stallion, and she’d never see him again. She could only pray that he’d remain in Caileann awhile longer so they might become better acquainted. Then, perhaps, he would find what he was looking for. In her.

  “Now I think you need a distraction.” Taking the book from its place, she began to read about Odysseus and his remarkable journey home.

  ***

  A knock at the open door roused Eric from his dozing. “Yes?”

  Gabriel strode into Elisabeth’s chamber, pausing at the foot of the bed with a grin much like Christian’s. “You’re looking much better, lad.”

  “A credit to your daughter’s skill.” He motioned to a chair. “Would you care to sit?”

  Once he was seated, Gabriel stared out one of the windows for several moments. “He’s dead.”

  When the earl finally spoke, his simple words startled Eric. “Pardonnez?”

  “He’s dead.” Gabriel turned to him with vengeful eyes. “Ye killed the man who tried to take my daughter.”

  “I did.”

  “Would ye do it again?”

  “Yes.”

  “I thought as much.” Gabriel stood and strolled a few paces away, hands held behind his back. “I’m not usually one to pry into a man’s past, but–”

  When he paused, Eric finished for him. “These are unusual circumstances.”

  “Aye.” He halted at the foot of the bed, regarding Eric with a patient expression. “Whatever it is you’ve done, I’ll not be judging it. In my mind, saving my daughter far outweighs any offense you might have committed.”

  Elisabeth’s promise of safety rang in his ears, mingling with her father’s assurance. And so, Eric relayed what he’d told her, surprised at the anger that still seethed in his voice. Not for himself, but for the men he’d so admired. Innocent of the ludicrous charges brought against them, they’d survived their battles with the Saracens only to fall before the greed of an insatiable monarch.

  The same rage burned in Gabriel’s eyes, and the earl braced his hands on the footboard, bowing his head between his shoulders. When he lifted his head, he met Eric’s gaze with a directness a commoner such as him received from very few.

  “This is not for anyone else to know, but I’ve met some of the Templars who escaped. They’re fine men, dedicated to their mission and to God, and I have tremendous respect for them.”

  Eric’s chest swelled with pride, and he felt some of the weight he’d been carrying lift from his hear
t. “’Tis good to know.”

  They stared at one another in silence, each taking their measure of the other. If he lived several lifetimes, however, Eric could never have predicted the earl’s next words.

  “I wish to hire you as Elisabeth’s personal guard. We’ll discuss your pay at another time, but for the loyalty you’ve shown the Redmond, I’d wager you could name your price.”

  “I’m certain your payment will be fair,” he replied without thinking, which was very unlike him. “I would be honored with such a post.”

  “It’s agreed, then. ’Til you’re up and about, you’ll be needing some help. You’ve my permission to recruit any of my men for a rotation of guards.”

  “I’ll ask Christian which would be best suited to the task.”

  After an approving nod, Gabriel said, “Elisabeth warned me not to tire you, so I’ll leave ye to your rest. We’ll talk more later.”

  Alone once more, Eric realized that he should have thought over his decision more carefully. By agreeing to watch over Elisabeth, he was now very much involved in Scotland’s troubles. Beyond that, he would be very much involved with her.

  Even he could resist only so much temptation.

  ***

  “Carefully, now,” Elisabeth warned, bracing Eric while he hauled himself out of bed. “I’ve no intention of stitching you together again.”

  He settled his boots on the floor and stretched out his bed-weary legs. With Elisabeth’s aid, he rose to stand, wavering only slightly before gaining his balance. She supported him as he took his first steps in days, and while he didn’t need the help, he accepted it all the same. Having her at his side brought him the sort of contentment he’d not expected to feel ever again, and he was loathe to relinquish it. And her.

  Slowly, they walked into the corridor, his leg feeling steadier with each stride.

  “Very good, Eric.” Giving him an encouraging smile, she stepped away. “I don’t think you need me at all.”

  Without thinking, he tightened his grasp, bringing her into his arms. Her cheeks flushed, but her eyes never faltered. Bold as any warrior, she met his gaze directly, even as her heart skipped against his chest.

  Her lips parted invitingly, and she gave him a knowing woman’s smile. “You wanted something?”