At the Warrior's Mercy

by Denise Lynn

  He groaned before moving off of her to rest on his side, then whispered hotly against her ear, ‘Trust me.’

  The moment after she nodded, he pushed her on to her side facing away from him and then pulled her tightly against his chest. She could feel the pounding of his heart against her back.

  With his head propped up on a bent arm, he leaned over and teased the corner of her mouth. Beatrice wanted the feel of his lips covering hers and turned her head towards his. She sighed at the return of his kiss.

  He slid his free arm around her to rest heavy on her chest. The edge of his thumb stroked the curve of a breast. Her breath caught, wondering what he would do next. Gregor grazed her lower lip with his teeth, drawing her attention back to their kiss.

  When her racing heart finally slowed, he pulled away to rest his chin on her shoulder. ‘Go to sleep.’

  His voice was rough, gravelly and it made her wonder if he, too, wanted more than just sleep. Not certain how to broach the subject, Beatrice said, ‘But I thought...’ She stopped, letting the question fade away into the night.

  ‘I know what you thought.’ Gregor sighed. ‘But, no, your first time needs to be with your husband, in a marriage bed. Not out here in the woods with someone who is supposed to be protecting you.’ Once again he moved his thumb, a gentle stroke that sent shivers to her toes. ‘No matter how much I want you, and trust me, Beatrice, I do, this is not the time or the place.’

  He lowered the arm that had been propping up his head and curved his body around her. ‘Now, sleep.’

  She curled her fingers around the arm still tucked around her, holding him close, not wanting him to move away. The warmth behind her, the steady beating of his heart and the evenness of his breaths lulled her closer to sleep.

  When all was quiet, and she was certain he had fallen to sleep, Beatrice whispered, ‘It may not be the time, nor the place, but it is the right man.’

  He tensed and she knew instantly that she’d sorely misspoken. He withdrew his arm and rolled away, letting the coolness of the night air rush between their bodies.

  She said nothing. What could she say? It wasn’t as if she could take back the wish she’d put into spoken words. So she remained still, waiting to see what he would do, or say.

  Finally, he rose and covered her up with the side of the blanket he’d been laying on. She heard him walk away, heard the snapping of branches, the rustling of dried leaves and the strike of flint as he built a fire.

  The blaze did little to warm her body. And the knowledge that he sat there before the fire instead of coming back to the blanket and her did nothing to warm her heart. Beatrice closed her eyes, silently cursing her foolishly spoken words and the useless moisture building behind her eyelids.

  What good was having a choice, when the one she chose wanted her not?

  * * *

  The next morning Beatrice awoke to the sound of men’s voices. She rolled over and opened her eyes to see Gregor, donned once again in his armour, and Simon talking near the fire.

  When Gregor left, Simon stayed behind. He made quick work of dousing the fire and disassembling the small rock-rimmed pit.

  Without turning away from his task, Simon said, ‘From the sound of your breathing, I would say you are awake.’

  ‘That I am.’ She rose, finger-combed the tangles from her hair before plaiting it into a long braid which she tossed over her shoulder to hang down her back and then folded the blanket which had served as her bed.

  Finished with his task, Simon turned to face her and approached to take the blanket from her. ‘I’ll have one of the men pack this while I escort you to the stream.’

  ‘Where is Gregor?’

  ‘Lord Gregor and James went ahead to scout out the road before we leave. Fear not, he’ll be back shortly.’

  * * *

  On their walk back to the camp, Beatrice said, ‘Sir Simon, I appreciate the offer, but you really don’t need to escort me.’

  He tossed the blanket to Daniel. ‘After what happened yesterday evening, yes, I do. Come along.’

  Once out of earshot of the camp, she asked, ‘You don’t like me much, do you?’

  Simon stumbled a step, obviously surprised by her question. ‘What makes you say such a thing, my lady?’

  ‘You say little, but when you do it’s as if you are ordering about one of your men.’

  He shrugged. ‘That is simply my way. I have not been in the company of many women since my dear Alice died in childbirth. So, any tender words or ways are unfamiliar to me.’

  ‘You were married?’

  ‘A long, long time ago. My Alice died over twenty years past.’

  ‘And you never remarried?’

  ‘No. I go to my grave free to join once again with Alice.’

  Surprised by that admission, she asked, ‘So, you loved your wife?’

  ‘Not at first.’ Simon laughed. ‘It was no love match by any means. Our family’s lands were adjacent, so the marriage was arranged by our fathers with no say from either of us. We fought continuously from the moment we spoke our vows at the village chapel. But sleeping under the same roof, in the same bed night after night, does tend to alter things a bit.’

  She imagined that it did alter things. What would it be like to sleep in the same bed night after night with Gregor? A hot flush fired her cheeks at the thought.

  ‘I saw that, Lady Beatrice. Tell me, do you care for him?’

  ‘Who?’ She saw little need to make this too easy for the man.

  ‘Do not be cheeky with me, lass. You know full well that I meant Lord Gregor.’

  ‘I’ve only known him for less than two days.’

  ‘Yet both of you act as if you’d known each other for years.’

  ‘True, and it amazes me as much as it would anyone. But he makes me feel safe and I am comfortable around him.’

  ‘You need be extra-careful when you play with wolves, my lady.’

  Did Simon fear that she sought to play with Gregor’s heart? She wouldn’t know how to be that underhanded. ‘I do not seek to bring him any harm, Sir Simon. From what I’ve seen and heard he’s had enough of that in his life.’

  He waved her off the road towards the stream, frowning. ‘It is not his heart I fear for, Lady Beatrice, it is yours.’

  Before she had a chance to ask him to explain, he nodded in the direction of the water. ‘Be on your way. I will wait here.’

  When she rejoined him, she heard voices and the stomping of horses on the road a short distance away, thus her chance to get some sort of reasoning for his fear was lost.

  James, Harold and Daniel sat on their horses, waiting. Gregor stood in the road holding the reins to the other mounts.

  Simon none too gently took the reins to his horse, asking, ‘My lord, have you seen the size of those spiderwebs that were woven last night?’ He then mounted his horse and left without another word.

  Beatrice looked at Gregor, but his eyes were closed tightly while he rubbed his forehead. Finally, he lowered his hand and helped her on to the horse without a word.

  * * *

  In what seemed no time at all, Beatrice found herself staring out over the busy wharf. The long-missed scent of the sea, the sounds of workers plying their trade, the loading and unloading of ships—it all made her eager to return to Warehaven.

  ‘All is in order,’ Gregor said as he came up behind her.

  His familiar touch on her shoulder, the warmth of his hand as he gently squeezed, before brushing his palm to the small of her back, made her long to stay here with him instead of returning home.

  But his withdrawal at her comment last night and subsequent coldness since starting out this day made her aware that staying wasn’t an option. She wanted to cry over how badly this had all ended after she’d begun
to hope for so much more.

  She pushed away the morose thoughts and stiffened her spine. ‘You’ve found me safe passage?’

  ‘Yes.’ He urged her forward. ‘The ship was heading to Warehaven. The captain swears you will know him and he vowed to take good care of you until you arrive safely at home.’

  She heard his words, but they barely registered in her mind. The only thing she could concentrate on was the fall of each footstep that would take her to the ship and out of Gregor’s life. It was all she could do not to throw herself against his chest and beg him to change his mind.

  This hurt buffeting her was her own fault. She was such a fool when it came to men. Such a gullible, senseless fool. And hadn’t Sir Simon just warned her of this very hurt just this morning? Bah, she was twice the fool.

  ‘Did you hear me?’ He reached up to grasp her shoulder and turn her to face him.

  She shook her head and looked away, not wanting him to see the sudden building of moisture in her eyes.

  Of course he was having none of that. With his fingertips beneath her chin, he turned her to face him. ‘I said this is not goodbye, Beatrice. I will come to you, soon.’

  She gasped, wondering if she could believe what she’d heard.

  He cupped her cheeks and brushed at her tears with his thumbs. ‘Stop this. I’d not have expected this childish reaction from such a brazen wanton such as you.’

  She knew that he was but seeking to tease her out of her pitiful mood. ‘Brazen and brash I have always been, but never a wanton until I met you.’

  He nodded. ‘That is good. Just keep it that way. Don’t go chasing after the first pretty face you see.’

  Pretty face. Beatrice laughed and fell easily against his chest. ‘I make no promises.’

  He hugged her tightly, then released her all too soon, to say, ‘Go. Be safe. Be strong.’

  Without another word, he turned and left her wondering at his cryptic farewell.

  Chapter Eight

  Beatrice stared up at the ceiling of her bedchamber. She’d nearly forgotten how much she loved this room with its curtained alcove and the four narrow window openings that permitted light to flood the chamber for parts of each day no matter the season.

  Although it seemed oddly quiet without Isabella’s presence. Now that she’d returned to Warehaven, she missed her sister more than she had at Montreau.

  At least at Montreau she’d had Jared and Lea for company. Neither was very demonstrative, but they’d been family. Here there was no one but the guards and the servants.

  She smiled wryly at her senseless contradictions. Isn’t this what she’d wanted—to return to Warehaven? Hadn’t she broken every convention, sinned enough to put her soul at risk of eternal damnation, taken more chances than she should have just to return?

  Yes, she had. She sat up on the bed and now was not the time to dwell on her rashness, there was plenty of work to be done before her parents returned.

  While the bailey, walls, kitchens, stable and Great Hall were in excellent condition in her parents’ absence, the upper chambers were...not in as good a state. It was likely that nobody had so much as come up the stairs since her parents left the last time, let alone seen that the rooms were cleaned. The chambers needed to be aired, swept, the linens washed, and the woodwork and floors dusted.

  The last two days had been spent tearing down the cobwebs. After walking into one, in the dark, on the night of her return, she’d vowed not to entertain a repeat of that most unpleasant experience.

  At least the work had kept her hands and mind occupied. She’d been too busy during the day to spend much time dwelling on how much she missed Gregor. Or wondering if or when he would come to Warehaven.

  How she hoped he did come to Warehaven. She wanted her parents to meet him, to see that King David’s Wolf wasn’t any more evil or cruel than King Henry’s Executioner, her father, had been. Surely they would approve a match since Gregor would meet every requirement they could devise. He was of the right age. While not titled, he did control a shipyard which would make her father happy. He was knighted. And he even met her new-found requirements—he could see to her safety, keep her fed, most likely give her the children she wished to have. He was honest, loyal, honourable and trustworthy.

  Of course all of this was providing Gregor asked for a match. That was not yet a given. Beatrice shook her head, trying to clear her mind of such wishful thoughts.

  Right now she was thankful that she’d fallen into bed each night exhausted—far too tired to wish for long that his firm, warm chest was against her back while he held her close as she drifted off to sleep.

  Beatrice swung her legs over the side of the bed, her feet hitting the cold floor just as one of the maids pounded on her door. ‘Lady Beatrice, are you awake?’

  She shot a questioning look at the young woman entering the chamber in a rush. For all she tried, she couldn’t remember the woman’s name. She’d been brought in from the village to assist with the cleaning and right now, from the way her body trembled, she was terrified of something.

  ‘Yes, I am. What is wrong?’

  ‘Oh, my lady, you are needed below.’ The woman looked over her shoulder as if expecting someone to suddenly appear behind her. ‘We are under attack.’

  After the first rush of blood surged through her heart, leaving her head spinning, Beatrice took a deep breath. She doubted if anyone was actually attacking Warehaven. What was probably happening was that more than a couple of ships were entering the harbour at the same time. While that sight could be rather daunting if one was not used to witnessing the event, it had never in the history of Warehaven been an attacking force—at least not since her father’s arrival on the island.

  She ushered the woman back to the door. ‘Tell them I’ll be down after I get dressed.’

  ‘Oh, hurry, Lady Beatrice. Sir Robert is pacing the hall.’

  That made her frown. The man in charge of her father’s guards was rarely agitated. His ability to keep a tight rein on his emotions was what made him the perfect man for the position.

  She grabbed her gown from the wall peg and dropped it over her head. Thankfully, it was an over-sized garment she used when she knew she’d be getting filthy. There were no lacings to snug it to her body, so she needed only to wrap a belt around her waist, then throw on her stockings and boots.

  On her way out of the chamber, she turned and went back in to grab her comb. A quick rake and braid of her hair as she descended to the Great Hall would have to do for now.

  The sight that met her as she reached the bottom step nearly took her breath away. Guards, thankfully Warehaven’s guards, filled the hall. They were all in different stages of arming themselves.

  Just as the woman had said, Sir Robert paced—briskly—as he checked and rechecked each man and their weapons.

  Her gaze flew to the long trestle table which held what appeared to be the contents of the armoury.

  No. This could not be as it appeared. Nobody attacked Warehaven—at least not since her father had done so.

  ‘Sir Robert!’ She shouted to be heard over the din of men getting ready for battle.

  He came to her immediately and led her to an alcove near the back of the hall. ‘My lady, there is no easy way to tell you this, but an army has taken the harbour, docks and wharf district. They are now making their way through the village towards the keep.’

  ‘I beg your pardon?’ Surely she’d misheard him.

  ‘We are under attack.’

  ‘By whom?’ What fool would attack them? Did they not realise what her father would do to them once he discovered this...this...atrocity?

  ‘I am not sure. They carry no standard.’

  This was not good. With her father and mother gone, she was the only Warehaven left to give the orders.
r />   But what orders? Speechless, she stared at Sir Robert.

  He briefly patted her shoulder. ‘The men are well trained. I can advise you, but I need to see to them first.’

  ‘I know. I know. Give me just a minute.’

  ‘That is longer than we can spare.’

  She drew in a deep breath, held it for a heartbeat, then let it out in a rush. ‘Have the villagers made it to the bailey?’

  ‘Yes, they started arriving with whatever weapons they own, the animals they could easily herd and the supplies they could carry a few moments ago.’

  ‘Good.’ She was going to have to make room for them inside the keep, but for the moment that planning could wait. ‘As soon as the crowd thins, get the gates shut.’

  ‘Men are already on hand to do so. The portcullis is ready to be lowered.’

  ‘Our livestock?’

  ‘Had not yet been turned out for the day.’

  Which meant if it became necessary, they had enough food and with the well in the courtyard would not run out of water if this came to a drawn-out siege. Slaughtering the livestock would leave them short supplied this coming winter, but she couldn’t worry about that now, she needed to focus on the immediate needs of Warehaven’s people.

  ‘Finish getting the men ready, get them on the walls, order someone to bring the villagers inside. Make certain the postern gate is secured and guarded, along with the tunnel entrance. Tell the servants to do their best for right now, we’ll sort everything out later. I need to change and will join you on the wall at the main gate tower quickly.’

  Sir Robert nodded and left to carry out her orders, while she raced back up to her bedchamber.

  She flung open the chest at the foot of her bed, digging through the garments inside looking for her best gown. If she had to take her father’s place, she wasn’t going to do so looking as if she’d just come out of the pig sty.