by Lara Adrian
With some degree of resignation, Haven left off fussing with herself. Thrusting her chin up, letting her hair stray as it willed, she gripped the handle of her basket and attempted not to fret over her appearance, which would never match Ariana's golden grace and warmth. There was no point in trying.
After all, she reasoned with herself, she had no one to impress.
Haven clung to that thought as they rounded the soaring east wall of the tower keep and came into the courtyard of the inner bailey. Try as she might to be unaffected, it was difficult not to stare at Kenrick of Clairmont when he stood beside his white charger outfitted in gleaming chain mail and a surcoat of deep blue silk.
The splendor of him as he drew off his helm and coif fair stole her breath. If she thought him endearingly handsome when he was bent over his desk, pensive and frowning as he scribbled his secret writings, this new side of him--this golden warrior--was utterly devastating.
He was magnificent. So much so, Haven nearly groaned with desire just to look upon him.
Thankfully she was spared the indignity when in that very moment, Ariana gave a little cry of excitement and launched herself into her husband's waiting arms. Braedon lifted her off the ground as though she weighed naught but air and spun her around in a quick circle in the bailey. They murmured private words to each other, then pressed their lips together in a loving kiss that seemed like to never end.
Haven looked away from the affectionate display, and her gaze was snared at once by Kenrick's level stare.
"Good morrow, my lady."
"My lord," she replied with a courteous nod of greeting.
He took her in from head to toe, a slow, measuring glance that set butterflies of awareness batting around in her breast. "I see you've been in the garden today."
She willed herself not to look down at her berry-stained skirts, waiting to catch that dissecting gaze as it picked her apart, flaw by glaring flaw. Instead, when their eyes met again, his held only a note of curiosity. Perhaps something more, although she was never sure how to read his stoic expression.
"Apparently there will be capons in cream sauce at this eve's sup," she told him. "Lady Ariana and I were collecting rosemary and fennel for the recipe."
He strode forward and reached out for her basket. Pressing one strong, elegant finger to the edge of the container, he tipped it slightly to inspect its contents. "And elder berries?"
"For a pudding."
As he reached in to pluck one of the glossy fruits from the basket, Haven's mind returned to their encounter in his chamber the night before, when that same hand had caressed her cheek, and idly toyed with a lock of her unbound hair. She had longed for more then, and, faith preserve her, she did so now as well.
"How went the trip?" Ariana asked, drawing out of her husband's embrace to question both men.
Haven thought she spied a note of reservation passing between Kenrick and his dark brother-by-marriage, but it was gone quickly, replaced by an air of masculine command.
"It went much as expected," Braedon said.
"You are back earlier than planned."
"Aye," Kenrick agreed. "But only for the night. We'll be off again on the morrow."
"So soon?" Ariana wrapped her arms a bit tighter around Braedon's trim waist. "Did you find anything while you were away--any news that might prove helpful?"
"There have been some developments," Braedon said, tenderly tracing his fingers along Ariana's cheek. "Naught to worry about."
She shot him an arch look. "You know how I feel about secrets, my lord."
"I do, and I will tell you all, my lady." He glanced subtly in Haven's direction before meeting his wife's expectant gaze. "We can talk in the keep, after I tend my mount. Mayhap you will be kind enough to fetch me a bath. Lord knows, I could use one after riding all morn."
"Very well," she sighed. With some apparent reluctance, Ariana released her hold on her husband. "I shall meet you in our chambers as soon as Haven and I collect a basket of eggs for the kitchens. Do not keep me waiting overlong, my lord."
The scar on Braedon's left cheek drew tight with his answering grin. "I wouldn't dream of it, my lady."
* * *
As the ladies departed, Braedon crossed his arms over his chest and blew out a slow, appraising sigh. "It is a rare thing, to be sure."
"What's that?" Kenrick asked, unable to tear his gaze away from the unpracticed sway of Haven's hips as she walked.
"To find such beauty, fire, and wit in one woman." Braedon angled a knowing look on him. "That brand of fortune is usually reserved for men more deserving than either of us."
"Aye." He shrugged. "I wager so, now that you say it."
For all his casualness, Kenrick paused to consider the truth in Braedon's observation. Haven was indeed an unusual woman. Beautiful, of course, as any man would readily admit, but her appeal went much farther than that.
Much to his dismay.
Spirited, intelligent, she was as intriguing as any puzzle Kenrick had ever known. He wanted to uncover each of her mysteries, solve the many riddles that made the lady into the elusive, alluring creature she was.
Haven was fire and beauty and wit--everything Braedon had said and then some. She defied description to Kenrick's way of thinking, and that alone made him want to know more.
"The lady is a fair, many faceted jewel," he admitted at last, voicing his thoughts aloud. "She surpasses mere beauty, do you ask me."
Braedon grunted in reply as he went back to his work.
Kenrick's attention, however, had turned eagerly elsewhere, toward the vixen who lit up the drab bailey courtyard like a burst of pure amber light.
"Have you ever seen such a face or form so lovely as that? Or hair so lustrous? 'Tis like skeins of silken flame. And her eyes--by God, those unusual emerald-hued eyes are alive with a thousand flecks of gold and silver and colors I vow I've never seen the like before..."
Braedon's sudden outburst of laughter shattered the vision Kenrick had been lost to in that moment. He scowled at his sister's husband, who now sat back on his haunches to regard him from under his dark forelock. The man was clearly quite amused.
"By the Rood," Braedon chortled. "Have a care, my stricken brother. Else you'll have me believing you've traded your formulaes for the mooning lyrics of the troubadours."
"Believe what you like. And I'll thank you to piss off," Kenrick gibed back, chagrined to think he had made a fool of himself, even with the man he considered a close friend and kin. "Besides, you were the one to start the subject. I was merely elaborating on things you yourself had said."
"Fair enough," Braedon said, clapping him good-naturedly on the shoulder. "But I was talking about my lady wife. Pray tell, which lady might you have been talking about?"
The smug bastard did not wait for Kenrick's reply, which likely would have been accompanied by the wooden brush he held in his hand. Still chuckling, Braedon tossed down his packs and sauntered back into the stables with his mount.
* * *
With her basket tucked under her arm, Haven followed Ariana past the stables to the area of the bailey where the pens for the livestock were located. A brown milk cow mooed as they passed her square patch of grazing turf. Piglets snuffled and rooted about in their pen, chasing their mother as the large sow roused from a nap and shuffled to the far corner of the containment, her afternoon doze evidently disturbed by the two women strolling by.
Ariana covered her face with the edge of her long sleeve, discreetly shielding her nose although the earthy smells of the animals and their pens was hardly offensive. Haven noted Ariana's hastened pace, the faintly queasy look that spread over her countenance.
"Does he know?" Haven asked.
Ariana looked over at her quizzically.
"About the babe. You may not like secrets, but you are keeping one of your own. Your husband does not know he is to be a father, does he?"
"Wha--" She ceased walking and blinked at her in disbelief. "But I am just a for
tnight past my time. How could you possibly know?"
Haven glanced at the lady's trim stomach, knowing it was too early to see signs there. Her nervous stomach could have been nothing more than a passing ailment, or the delicate senses of a woman born of noble blood, but the truth of it was in Ariana's eyes. And in the tender look that came over her when she thought no one was watching. It was in the loving way her hand liked to drift down and caress the growing child in her still-new womb.
"I have treated more than one expectant woman with my herbs. The signs are there, if you know where to look. Why do you keep the news from him? 'Tis plain enough for all to see that he holds affection for you."
"Affection?" Ariana laughed, a musical sound of amusement. "Yes, I dearly hope so!"
She resumed walking, her gait easy now that they were gone from the larger animals and crossing an open grassy area.
"Why do you not tell him, then?" Haven pressed, curious all the more. "Do you fear he will not feel the same affection for his child?"
"No," Ariana answered at once. "No, never that. Braedon is a very loving man. Family is important to him. 'Tis just...well, there is much about him that I cannot explain. He is hard on himself, believing he has many flaws. He is concerned that some of them will be passed along to his children."
"And what do you think?"
"I think his children will be very special, and I am honored to be the woman to carry them and raise them. To love them, as I so adore their father."
She smiled at Haven, and might have said more if not for the sudden complaint of a rooster who had been pecking at some grit as they drew near. The strutting cock flapped his wings, then suddenly darted beneath a cart at their approach.
And, farther along the path, came the commotion rising from a number of fowl. The cacophony grew more frenzied as the women approached the squat little building that housed the hens.
Nervous fluttering and the clucking of dozens of birds continued as Ariana unhooked the latch and opened the door. Haven stood just behind her.
"Something certainly has them upset," Ariana remarked over her shoulder as she ducked beneath the low eave of the henhouse door. "Have a care when you enter, Haven. There is a dip just on the inside of the door. I should hate for you to lose your footing and hurt yourself."
To Haven's mind, the hens seemed due more caution than the worn earth of their coop's floor. Clearly agitated, most of the score-and-a-half birds had already scuttled off their nests as Ariana then Haven stepped inside. Feathers and dust stirred as the gaggle ran hither and yon inside the cramped coop, complaining loudly. Wings flapped, beady eyes darted in alarm, and the din of clucking and crowing amplified toward a state of wild panic.
"Whatever is the matter in here?" Ariana mused aloud. "They hardly get so agitated if one of the cats manages to sneak into the coop."
She shooed a large speckled hen out of her way, then turned back to motion Haven farther inside. The coop was low-ceilinged and dim. What scant light filtered in through the roof's wooden slats was swimming with dust motes from the continued beating of the earth floor as taloned feet scratched and scuttled in a dance of anxious upset. The chaos within worsened by the moment, the noise building to almost deafening heights.
"Good lord, what a queer mood they're in!" Ariana exclaimed. "Hand me your basket, Haven. I'll collect what we need."
Haven reached out to give her the small container, and as she did so, one of the few birds remaining on its nest suddenly launched into the air, screeching. Heavy, graceless wings beat in a panic as it flew at the women.
Haven saw the bird coming and quickly drew Ariana aside. The hen's sharp claws caught in Haven's hair and raked her cheek. She brought her arm up to shield her face and eyes, for the bird was in a blind fury, pecking and attacking wherever it could.
"Watch out!" Ariana cried from behind her. "Haven, come. Let's get out of here now!"
Ariana's advice was sound, but a fraction too late. Before Haven realized what she was doing, she drew the slim dagger from Ariana's girdle sheath. Snatching the feral bird by the leg as it came at her face again, Haven flipped the dagger in her hand and slew the hen in an instant, sticking the dagger into the plump breast of the creature. She tossed down the unmoving carcass and backed toward the door where Ariana waited. The remaining hens continued their chatter and fluttering, but a wariness had settled over the coop with the slaughter of the one.
The door to the henhouse flew open behind the women, spilling light from the bailey into the cramped confines of the outbuilding.
"What the devil is going on in here?"
Kenrick of Clairmont's voice boomed over the din of the nervous birds and sent them scattering to the corners of the coop. His sharp blue gaze lit on his sister's stricken face, then settled on Haven.
"Jesu! Your face is scratched bloody--and your arm. What just happened?"
"Th-the hens," Ariana stammered. "Something upset them, and they tried to attack us. Poor Haven took the brunt of it. Had she not pushed me out of the way, no doubt we would both be standing here thrashed and bleeding."
"Are you all right?"
At Kenrick's low query, Haven glanced up and met his eyes. She nodded, uncomfortable with his gentle regard. "I didn't mean to kill the animal. I reacted...on instinct, I suppose. Before I had the chance to know what I was doing."
He exhaled an oath. "The bird means nothing. Thank the saints you have such instincts, my lady. I know a few Templars who would envy the accuracy and speed of your battle wits."
Was he teasing her? Haven felt certain he was, but she knew not what to make of him. Although he made light with his jest, his expression was one of total seriousness and concern. Scowling, he looked to the angry welts on her arm.
"You need care for those. And for your face." He touched her cheek with the pad of his thumb, an unexpected gesture of tenderness that took her aback. His finger came away from her face stained with a bright smudge of red from cuts of the bird's sharp talons. "You're certain you are all right?"
"Yes," she replied, unable to speak in anything more than a whisper when the warmth of his touch still lingered on her skin.
Faith preserve her, but the man's very presence rendered her nearly incapable of thought much less speech. It was a decidedly uncomfortable feeling, to be so aware, so physically affected. She inched slightly away from him, averting her gaze from the potent intensity of his blue eyes.
"I'm so sorry, Haven," Ariana said, taking her hand. "I truly don't know what might have caused this, but I feel simply terrible that you were hurt."
"As do I," Kenrick added. "I shall have to think of a way to make it up to you."
"That won't be necessary," Haven said. "'Tis just a few scratches. I am fine."
Ariana arched a quizzical brow at her brother, but spoke instead to Haven. "Come along now, and let's look after your cuts."
With a nod of agreement, Haven allowed herself to be led away from the livestock area and back toward the tower keep. She could still feel Kenrick's gaze on her as she departed, the power of his stare warming her every step across the wide courtyard. She should have ignored the sensation, but she could not prevent her head from turning slightly, just enough to cast a surreptitious look over her shoulder to where he stood.
"He has been watching you for days, you know."
Haven quickly turned away and shot an uncomfortable glance at Ariana. "Aye, he watches me like a hawk trained on its prey."
"Nay," the lady countered, a warm smile playing upon her lips. "He watches you like a man watches a woman. His interest is obvious, though I somehow doubt he would admit it."
"I am sure I wouldn't know."
"Well, I would. I have seen the look often enough to recognize it."
Some of the warmth Haven knew began to cool when she considered how many other ladies Ariana's handsome brother might have charmed with his strong, golden appeal and swaggering confidence. To her chagrin, she could not help asking. "Just how often have you seen
it in him?"
"In Kenrick?" Ariana gave an amused laugh. "Oh, never."
Haven turned a frown on her, confused.
"I have never seen such a look in my brother, but I have seen it aplenty in my lord husband." She patted her stomach and gave a sidelong wink as she guided Haven into the cool shade of the castle. "After all," she said, her voice lowered to a private whisper, "how do you imagine I find myself in this happy state?"
Chapter 14
Although the day's trip had given him a new direction to explore with regard to the Chalice treasure, Kenrick found his thoughts occupied with other things. He had finished up in the stables alone, for once Braedon learned of the incident in the henhouse, there was little to keep the warrior from heading to the castle chambers to make sure firsthand that Ariana had not been injured.
As for Kenrick, once divested of armor and riding gear, his own path inside the keep ended at Haven's door. He knocked lightly, and was greeted by the round, wimple-framed face of a servant girl as the panel opened.
"I've come to see about the lady Haven. Is she within?"
"Aye, milord. She's here."
The maid dipped her chin and stepped aside for him to enter. Behind her several paces, seated in a chair beside the fireplace, was Haven. A basin of herbed water steamed atop a pedestal table next to her, carrying the scent of lavender and sage across the chamber.
"Do I interrupt?" he asked.
She gave a nearly imperceptible shake of her head. "Mary was just assisting me in cleaning up my scratches. We were nearly finished."
