Maude was engulfed in flames and staggering around the cell, screaming … screaming …
God help him! Leila must be in there, too!
Twisting his damp cloak around his arm, Guy held it in front of his face like a shield and tried again to enter, but it was impossible. The flames were too hot, and now the floor of the cell was nothing but a boiling sea of fire. Choking from the billowing smoke, tears streaming down his cheeks, he backed away, shaking his head in horrified disbelief. He could no longer see Maude. Her hideous screams had ceased.
“Leila …” he rasped hoarsely, unable to tear his watery eyes from the blazing inferno. “Why? Why!” He knew he must escape the dungeon quickly or be overcome by smoke, but he couldn’t bring himself to move. God in heaven, he did not want to live without her!
The sound of weeping somewhere behind him made Guy wheel around. Surely he hadn’t imagined it! Then he saw that another cell door was partially open and he lurched crazily toward it, stumbling inside.
He couldn’t believe his eyes. Huddled in the middle of the cell, rocking on her knees and sobbing uncontrollably, was Leila. Seeing Guy, she wept harder, her hands held out rigidly in front of her.
“Ooohhh, it burns … it burns!” she babbled through her tears, clearly in shock. “I tried to stop it … The fire caught her skirts. Her hair! Oh, the screaming! I tried to help her! I tried …”
Guy gathered her into his arms, his relief so immense, so overwhelming that he could not speak. Hugging her close, he reeled through the smoke-filled dungeon and up the stairs to the ground floor, where he threw open the door and lunged outside.
He did not stop until they were well away from the keep, then he sank to his knees, gasping for breath and cradling Leila against his chest. In the torchlight he could see that her hands were reddened, but thankfully not seriously burned. He kissed her blistered palms and tenderly stroked her hair.
“Shhh, love. The nightmare is over. Shhh.”
Suddenly Leila went limp in his arms, the horror of what she had witnessed proving too much for her.
Guy was grateful for her unconscious state. He did not want her to see the bloody carnage strewn all across the bailey. He did not want her to think she was still living a nightmare. Not when she was finally safe in his arms.
***
The first thing Leila felt when she awoke was a stinging sensation in her hands. Dazed, she lifted them slowly, only to discover they were swathed in bandages. Then she felt someone softly stroking her cheek. She turned her head to find Guy lying beside her on top of the fur coverlet, propped up on an elbow. He smiled warmly.
“Guy …” Astonished, she tried to sit up, but he pushed her gently back against the pillows.
“Easy, love. Give yourself a moment. You’ve been asleep for hours. Take a look around you and get your bearings. You’re back at Warenne Castle, in your own bedchamber.”
Leila drew a deep breath, her gaze trailing around the familiar room. It was true. She was home.
“But how?” she asked, her thoughts gradually growing less muddled.
“It is a long story, my love. Don’t trouble yourself with it now. There will be time enough to hear it when you’re feeling better.”
She gazed into his eyes, so very, very blue in the bright sunshine flooding the room. The love she saw reflected there was enough to chase away the terrible memories beginning to crowd in on her, but she had to ask him one question.
“Roger?”
Guy seemed uncertain of how to answer, then he sighed, shaking his head. “He is gone, Leila. He fell from the castle keep to his death.”
Leila absorbed this news, saying nothing for a long moment. With her relief that Roger would plague them no more, she felt a sense of sadness. She had never wished such misfortune upon either him or Maude. They had brought it upon themselves, evil begetting evil.
Finally she said, “You fought him, then.”
“Yes, we fought.”
Suddenly afraid that he might have been wounded, her eyes swept him frantically, the great breadth of his bare shoulders, his powerful arms, his heavily muscled chest. Skipping past his braies, she noticed the fresh bandages around his thigh.
“I am whole, Leila,” Guy said with a small laugh, reading her concerned scrutiny.
“Yes, thank God, but I should attend to your leg wound—”
“That will not be possible for several days, my love,” Guy told her gently, drawing up her chin to face him. “You must wait until your hands heal. Philip has been ably caring for both of us by using some of your prepared ointments. When he returns in an hour or so, I’m sure you will find him most eager to hear your suggestions for our continued care.”
Leila was incredulous. “Philip said that?”
“Yes. He has undergone a miraculous change of heart. He has already visited the surrounding villages and farms to admit to my tenants that he was wrong about your medical skills. I’m sure you will have patients aplenty when you return to your hospital.”
“Surely this must all be a dream,” Leila murmured, stunned by this news.
“No,” Guy replied firmly. “It is no dream.”
“But I cannot believe you came after me!” she blurted, staring into his eyes. Then her voice fell to a broken whisper. “I thought … you would hate me for leaving you.”
“Never,” he said fervently. “I love you, Leila. You are everything to me. How could I ever hate you? You are my beloved wife. You carry our child—”
“How did you know … ?” she asked, amazed.
“It doesn’t matter. Just know that I am pleased beyond measure about the babe.” As he ran one finger lightly down her cheek and across her lips, his expression grew serious. “In truth, Leila, when I discovered you had fled, I almost believed that you hated me—”
“Never.” Leila felt him tense beside her, his gaze so full of hope and longing that it took her breath away. If there was ever a moment to share with him exactly how she felt, it was now. “I love you, Guy de Warenne. You have forever won my heart. I will never, never leave you.”
His hoarse cry was exultant and she welcomed his impassioned kiss with open arms. The warmth of his lips was the sweetest affirmation that this incredible moment was real. The fierce desire flaring within her was just as real, and she yearned to share it with him. To give herself freely and fully, as she had just given her undying love.
“My lord, how shall we fill these long hours as we both convalesce?” she teased softly, delighting in his roguish smile when he drew away to gaze into her face. She shivered deliciously. It seemed their thoughts were one and the same.
“I can think of countless ways, my love.”
Epilogue
Damascus, Syria
Spring, 1274
Eve Gervais sat alone in her fragrant courtyard, staring at the water-stained, travel-worn packet she held in her trembling hands.
She was told it had passed through many other hands to reach her: messengers, pilgrims, a native Christian who had journeyed all the way from Acre to deliver it to Friar Thomas, and finally Majida. Her faithful odalisque had just returned from the church in the Christian quarter with the precious missive, then she had retired to leave Eve in solitude.
Now it was all Eve could do to tear open the stiff outer parchment. As she did so, she could not help but wonder if the letter inside bore good news or bad. Drawing a deep, steadying breath, she pulled it out and began to read by the soft golden light of a lantern.
It was from Leila, written almost eight months ago, and to her astonishment, the beautifully flowing script was in English.
Eve’s eyes quickly filled with tears, and she sighed brokenly, reading about Roger’s cruel treachery and his death. Yet her sadness was far outweighed by quiet joy. The rest of the letter expressed Leila’s radiant happiness.
Leila had married a man of good and brave heart. Lord Guy de Warenne had promised Eve that Leila would come to no harm, and he had kept his word. She could not hav
e hoped or prayed for a more worthy husband for her beloved daughter. He had even given Leila a hospital so that she might fulfill her fondest dream.
Eve traced her finger over the last few lines, as if by touching the ink she could somehow come closer to the delicate hand that had written them.
Leila was the mother of healthy twins, Eve and William, born last summer. She also had an adopted son, Nicholas, whom she dearly loved. Her life was rich and full. She and Guy were happy together … so very, very happy.
“So God has willed,” Eve said softly to herself, reading the letter one more time before tearing it and the parchment packet into small pieces. Then she rose from the marble couch and cast the fragments into the stream which tumbled through her courtyard and emptied into the Barada River flowing just beyond the high, vine-covered wall.
Plucking a pink damask rose, Eve inhaled its lush scent as she stood beside the stream. She was so lost in her joyous thoughts she did not hear footsteps behind her. She realized she was no longer alone when someone gently touched her shoulder.
“What has captured your mind so, Eve? Did you not hear me call your name?”
She turned and smiled into Sinjar’s dark eyes. “I was only thinking how happy I am, my husband,” she answered truthfully. Even now, after reading the letter, she felt no guilt that she harbored one secret from the man she loved so completely.
It was Sinjar’s belief that Leila had taken pity upon Guy de Warenne and somehow aided him in his escape from Damascus. At least that was what he had always maintained. If he had any idea that Eve had had something to do with the escape, he had kept it to himself. He had never asked her about that night, and she didn’t think he ever would. His silent protection only endeared him more fiercely to her heart.
“You are my happiness, my beloved Eve. Come. The night is falling.”
As she took his hand, thrilling to the warmth of his touch and the desire smoldering in his eyes, the rose slipped from her fingers and fell into the stream. It spun and bobbed in the current, then drifted away …
About the Author
Miriam Minger is the award-winning, critically acclaimed author of ten historical romances. She also writes inspirational romantic thrillers as M.C. Walker, and is the co-author of the popular Little Mike and Maddie series of children’s picture books about a lovable pair of dogs and their motorcycle adventures.
Historical Romances by Miriam Minger:
Twin Passions
Stolen Splendor
A Hint of Rapture
Captive Rose
Defiant Impostor
The Pagan’s Prize
Wild Angel
Secrets of Midnight
My Runaway Heart (sequel to Secrets of Midnight)
Wild Roses (sequel to Wild Angel)
Inspirational Romantic Thrillers by M.C. Walker:
Blood Son
Children’s Picture Books by Miriam Aronson:
Little Mike and Maddie’s First Motorcycle Ride
Little Mike and Maddie’s Black Hills Adventure
Little Mike and Maddie’s Christmas Book
For information about the above titles, visit www.walkerpublishing.net or write to [email protected].
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