Return of the Warrior

by Kinley MacGregor

  Adara glanced over her shoulder as he fell back into the ranks with the other knights.

  “Don’t look at him,” Christian said in a teasing tone. “You’ll only play into his overbloated self-esteem.”

  She gave him a meaningful look. “In that regard, he reminds me of someone else I know.”

  “Ouch, my lady, you wound me.”

  “Never, Christian. I would never wound you.”

  Christian smiled at that as he watched her from the corner of his eye. His lady was truly beautiful, but it bothered him greatly that her feathers were currently clipped. His anger had yet to dissipate. Had anyone ever told him that he could become this angry at another Brotherhood member, he would have denied it.

  But for her, he had forsaken his solemn vows to protect them.

  One life can never mean more than the whole. Stryder’s words echoed in his head. They had made some hard decisions in prison and that one had been the hardest.

  There were times when one had to be sacrificed. And yet he had a sneaking suspicion that he wouldn’t be able to see Adara harmed no matter the consequences, and that was enough to give him nightmares all over again.

  Twelve

  By the time they reached Venice, the weather was freezing, but they had picked up some thousand knights and nearly as many archers.

  Adara still couldn’t believe the sight that had become their army, and with every town they rode to, the natives became terrified. Some had even refused their admittance for fear that they were marching against them.

  Their camp stretched on for leagues. She’d never seen the like. There weren’t that many Brotherhood members, but many of them commanded armies that put Ioan’s to shame.

  She could barely name all the Brotherhood members who knew her husband and she wondered how Christian kept them all straight.

  All of them had settled into an easy camaraderie. True, fights would occasionally break out, but for the most part they were a harmonious crowd.

  During their long trip south as they stopped at fairs and cities, Christian would buy her gowns or material that he would commission the women who followed their army to sew. She now had quite a collection of finery.

  Anytime she tried to thank him for his kindness, he would quickly brush it aside. Meanwhile, he continued to wear the black homespun robe of a monk. Even his cloak was sparse when compared to the fur-lined ones she and the rest of the knights wore.

  Now they were camped outside the city and had been here for three days—their longest stay anywhere to date. The men were growing weary and though Ioan wanted to press on, Christian had won their argument only after Corryn took ill.

  Adara herself wasn’t feeling much better. She’d been nauseated all day. It was all she could do to keep her stomach settled.

  She was lying on the bed, trying to ease her sickness, when she heard Christian enter.

  “Adara?” he asked, his tone concerned as he rushed to her side. “Are you ill?”

  She opened her eyes and, as the room spun a bit, she took deep breaths to quell the sensation. It was time for her to be honest with her husband. For almost two months she had kept silent. But now she was most certain.

  Their time in Calais had left her with a very special memento.

  “Aye and nay.”

  Christian looked puzzled by her answer. “’Tis either aye or nay, my lady. You cannot be both.”

  “Then aye, Christian, at this moment I am veryill.”

  His brow creased with worry as he pressed his hand to her forehead to test its temperature. “I shall fetch a leech.”

  “Nay, husband, there’s no need to waste the good man’s time.”

  “But if you are ill.”

  “My illness will pass in the next few weeks—at least that is what Renata has told me.”

  He looked even more confused now. “Who is Renata?”

  She forced herself not to smile as she savored the news she was about to give him. But she wanted to play vague a little while longer so that she could torment him. “The large, elderly washwoman who travels with Falcon’s men.”

  “Why would you consult a washwoman about your health?”

  “She is midwife to the women who are expecting.”

  She watched as the full implication of her “illness” dawned on him. His jaw went slack as he stared at her.

  “You’re with child?”

  “Aye. I should deliver this coming summer.”

  Christian felt the sudden need to sit. His knees were completely weak. Part of him screamed in pride and excitement, while the other part was horrified. That part of himself felt as if it were suffocating.

  Adara carried his child.

  “Are you not excited?”

  He knelt down beside her as her words reverberated through him. “Aye, Adara. The news is most welcomed.”

  “Then why are you so pale?”

  Terror? Abject horror? Panic? Apprehension? She could take her pick of the emotions that caused the color to drain from his face.

  “I think I am coming down with Corryn’s illness.”

  She didn’t believe him. “You are not happy, then.”

  He started to lie to her, but to what purpose? “You know that I didn’t want children.”

  Her nostrils flared at that. “Then you should have kept your male piece in your chausses, my lord.”

  He gaped at her crudity. “Where did you learn such?”

  “Have you not seen the women who travel with the men? They are a brazen lot who have taught me much these past few months.”

  Her face was flushed now as she sat up in the bed. “I told you when we met that I would never expect you to stay with me. I won’t need you to play father to my child when ’tis obvious that you have no wish to be near him.”

  She got up and forced him to stand. “In fact, why don’t we start this already? The baby has no need of you at this time. Why don’t you spend this night in Ioan’s tent?”

  “Pardon?”

  “You heard me,” she snapped in her most imperious tone. “Neither the baby nor I want you near us. So hie yourself from my presence.”

  He was aghast at her unfounded anger. He had done nothing wrong. “This is my tent.”

  “Fine!”

  He watched in stunned shock as she made her way out of the tent.

  Christian went after her. She was making her way quickly down the line of tents.

  He pulled her to a stop. “Adara? Where are you going?”

  “What do you care? You have wrought your damage. Begone, knave.”

  He heard the laughter of several men who had paused to watch them. He glared at them, then realized that Adara had left the tent without her cloak. She was standing outside in the freezing cold with nothing on but her gown.

  “Come back inside with me, Adara, and warm yourself.”

  She snorted at that. “I’d sooner sit with the devil himself.” She turned and started trudging up the hill to Lutian’s tent.

  Christian followed her, to find Lutian already offering her a seat as he entered.

  “Throw him out, Lutian,” she commanded.

  He glared at the fool. “Touch me, Lutian, and I will addle your brains for certain this time.”

  “Fail to touch him, Lutian, and I shall addle something you value much more highly.” Her gaze went meaningfully to his groin.

  Gaping, Lutian cupped himself. “I think, my prince, that you will understand if I show you the way out. Better to lose my brains than something else.”

  Christian growled in anger at his wife’s unreasonable temper. “Fine, Adara. Whenever you decide to grow up and act responsibly, I shall be in our tent.”

  “Me, irresponsible? You’re the one who wants to run away. So go. Leave. Creta. Au revior. Bon voyage. Auf Wiedersehen. Vaarwel. Arrivederci… ”

  Christian glared at her even though she wasn’t even looking at him. “I understood you the first time.”

  “Then why are you still here?”
<
br />   Ignoring her, he turned to Lutian. “Keep watch on her, Lutian. Don’t let her do anything foolish.”

  “He’s too late,” she said angrily. “He already let me give myself to you. What could ever be more foolish than that?”

  Christian wanted to argue, but knew Adara well enough to know that she would never listen to him while she was in this mood.

  So be it.

  The best he could do was leave her to it and give her time to cool her temper. Turning on his heel, he left her with Lutian, who looked on him with pity.

  Adara seethed as she sat in Lutian’s wooden campaign chair. Her husband had to be the most infuriating man to ever live and breathe.

  What had you expected?

  Truthfully, she had wanted him to be happy. They had spent so many wonderful nights together getting to know each other that she had thought he would welcome this news now. But he hadn’t changed. Not even a bit.

  “Are you all right, my queen?” Lutian asked as he drew near her.

  “I am crushed, Lutian. Crushed. There’s nothing to be done for it, I fear. Christian has broken my heart.”

  “What has he done? Say the word and I shall go and…well, he will beat my posterior all the way back to this tent. But I shall muss his clothes for the effort and bleed on him for spite.”

  Adara smiled at his noble words. “I told him that I’m with child and he wasn’t happy to hear my news. Should he not be overjoyed?”

  She never expected Lutian to disagree with her. “Perhaps not, my queen.”

  “Excuse me?”

  Lutian looked a bit sheepish. “’Tis quite a burden to place on any man. Even I would be fretful over it.”

  “Why should one baby be worth fretting over when he leads hundreds of men? You don’t see me fretting, do you?”

  “Actually, my queen, I do.”

  She narrowed her eyes on him. “What is it with you men, that you take up for each other on such a matter? May you roast for eternity, too!”

  Adara immediately reversed course and left the tent, only to run headlong into Phantom.

  She glared at him. “Out of my way, male, and to the devil with you and all of your ilk.”

  Phantom arched a single brow as she pushed past him. Completely amused, he watched her walk away.

  “My queen!” Lutian said as he left his tent.

  She didn’t pause.

  “So when is she expecting the child?” Phantom asked.

  Lutian paused. “How did you know she’s pregnant?”

  “An emotional outburst for no apparent reason, in which she curses all men? Pregnant, no doubt.” He shook his head. “Poor Christian. I pity any man who has a pregnant wife to contend with. They can be most irrational.”

  “As would you if you had something kicking you every time you moved.”

  They turned to see Corryn behind them. She gave both men a chiding glare. “You should both be ashamed of yourselves. ’Tis a fearful time when a woman finds herself in such a condition. Know either of you how many women die in childbirth?”

  That sobered both men instantly.

  Phantom felt his gullet knot over the realization and he wondered if the same thing had occurred to Christian.

  Adara had gone and ordered Ioan to have a separate tent erected for her. Part of her knew she was being unreasonable, but the other part of her didn’t care.

  This should be one of the happiest moments in her life. Christian should have shared her joy. She’d practiced over and over in her mind how she would broach the subject with him, but in all her imagined scenarios, Christian had always been delighted by the news.

  How dare he ruin this for her!

  Tears gathered in her eyes. Why couldn’t they have had the marriage she craved? Nay, Christian had to persist in being impossible.

  Fine. It was her turn to be impossible.

  The Lord moves in mysterious ways…

  Christian paused outside the cathedral where he’d gone for absolution and yet had found none. Not from himself anyway. He’d never been really sure why he continued to confess or attend Mass when his faith in God had been utterly destroyed all those years ago.

  Habit, mostly. It was all he’d known. He’d ignored the Latin words while standing in the congregation, trying to find something to quell the bitter fury that lived inside him over the injustice that was life.

  He’d never found peace. Not until a queen found her way into his room and laid herself bare before him.

  In more ways than one.

  She had silenced his demons. Her musical laughter drove them completely away.

  And now he was terrified of his life even more than he had been before. In truth, he was afraid to be happy. Afraid to let himself know joy again.

  How long could it last?

  Why can’t it last? He hesitated at the voice in his head. For every thing there is a season, and a time for every purpose under the heaven: A time to kill, and a time to heal; A time to weep, and a time to laugh; A time to mourn, and a time to dance.

  He had wept and mourned. Could this not be his time for joy? A woman to love and a child to protect. Why could they not be his reward for all he’d suffered?

  Surely it was possible.

  Smiling at the prospect, he turned a corner to head back toward their camp. As he did so, he brushed against a stranger who was dressed as a merchant.

  “My apologies,” he said. Then all of a sudden he felt a painful sting invade his chest.

  It was followed by another that came at his back, then more in quick succession.

  Christian’s legs buckled as the pain invaded every part of him. He fell to the street to see the men who had stabbed him.

  The one he’d brushed up against smiled at the one who had attacked his back. “I told you patience was key. That sooner or later he would leave the others and fall into our clutches.”

  “Basilli will pay us well.”

  Christian tried to pull his sword out, but before he could, the “merchant” took it from him. When the man reached for Christian’s mother’s emblem, Christian tried to fight, only to have the man stab him again.

  His entire body convulsed and shook.

  “The prince is dead,” the man said with a note of glee in his voice. “Long live the King.”

  Laughing, he wrapped the chain around his hand and smiled at his companion. “Come, let us lay aside Prince Basilli’s fear and let him know that the imposter is dead.”

  Christian struggled to remain conscious. He didn’t want to die. Not like this. Not knifed in the street by his enemies.

  He wanted…

  He wanted Adara. He wanted to live to see his baby born. To see his wife round from the life they had created.

  Most of all, he wanted to lay his hand against her precious cheek one last time and hear the gentle sound of her humming while she readied herself for bed.

  But what hurt most of all was the knowledge that her last memory of him wouldn’t be one of love. It would be one of anger.

  Neither she nor his child would ever know how much he’d loved them. How much she had come to mean to his harsh life.

  Nay, he couldn’t die like this. Not without her knowing.

  His anger taking root, he forced himself to roll over and to crawl toward the street so that he could find help. But the wounds were too deep. His entire body burned in agony.

  He’d only moved a few inches when everything finally turned black.

  Thirteen

  “Adara?”

  Adara looked up from where she was washing her face to find Phantom entering her tent, with Lutian one step behind him. With his long raven hair secured at his nape with a black cord, Phantom was dressed all in black that was trimmed in silver, while Lutian wore a dark brown surcoat that covered a yellow tunic and brown breeches. The two men looked a bit harried, which would make sense if they were here at Christian’s behest. They should be in fear if they dared to mention his name to her. She was in no mood to deal with any
man right now.

  Luckily they had just missed her last bout with morning sickness that was strangely attacking her at midday instead of in the morning.

  She pressed the cool cloth to the back of her neck to ease more of her unsettled stomach. “Leave me, Phantom, Lutian. I don’t feel well at present.”

  Phantom glanced to Lutian, then back at her. “I assure you, you’re about to feel worse.”

  She gave him a droll stare. “I am in no mood to deal with you and your quips.”

  “My queen, please,” Lutian said as he came forward, “you must come with us immediately.”

  “Where?”

  A tic worked in Phantom’s jaw. “Christian’s tent.”

  Anger whipped through her. So she had been right about the purpose of their visit. Well, if her husband wanted her back, he could just come himself and face the wrath that he had wrought.

  “You can bloody well forget that! I’d sooner the devil take him and—”

  “Well, you’re about to get your wish.”

  Phantom’s bland words gave her pause. “What wish is that?”

  “The devil is about to take him.”

  She frowned in confusion. “Pardon?”

  It was Lutian who answered. “Your prince lies mortally wounded, my queen. We most likely only have a few more moments before he dies.”

  Adara’s head swam at the news. Her knees felt weak, unstable. “You lie!”

  Phantom shook his head grimly. “One of our members headed to town for midday Mass found him. It appears Christian was attacked outside of a cathedral by unknown assailants. By the look of how and where he was attacked, I’d wager it was the Sesari…His father’s sword was taken from him, as was his mother’s emblem.”

  Grief tore through her at the news. This couldn’t be happening.

  Christian dead?

  She wanted to scream, to rail. And yet that regal sense of bearing came into her. Emotions would get her nowhere. She must be calm. Christian needed her.

  Without further comment, she left her tent and rushed to Christian’s, which was crowded by the members of the Brotherhood who had been imprisoned with him. They all looked as ill as she felt as they discussed who could have done such a thing to a man who was as capable a fighter as Christian.