The Blood and The Bloom (Men of Blood Book 1)

by Rosamund Winchester

  Snorting at Bear’s remark, Bell Heather said, “I will give it to ye for free—I want to kick Captain Tristin in the shins and then laugh as he dances like a buffoon.”

  Bear threw his head back and a boom of laughter escaped.

  Startled, Bell Heather barely had time to appreciate that he found her humorous before he was depositing her behind a bush.

  “I would give you ten pounds of gold to see that, lady,” Bear said, a broad smile visible over the large red beard blanketing his jaw.

  She couldn’t help it, she smiled back.

  “I will leave you to tend to your…err…business. Call for me when you are done.”

  For such a large man, Bear moved quickly, and before Bell Heather could thank him, he disappeared from sight.

  Eager to be finished, Bell Heather hurried through her toilet, making sure to keep her hems and bandaged feet clean of waste. Once she was done, she sat just to the side of the bush and inspected first one foot, then the other. The redness had died down to a soft pink, and they pained her only when she put a lot of force on one single spot. She hoped that meant that if she walked on the whole of her sole, the pain could be managed.

  To try out her theory, she tucked her feet beneath her, and slowly stood, putting her full weight on her left foot, then her right. The pain was tolerable.

  Appearing before her, Bear looked down at her feet.

  “It looks like you will not be needing my help,” he said plainly, a flash of disappointment appearing on his face for but a moment. The poor dear…he truly was more a lamb than a bear. But for his sake, she would keep that between them.

  “Nay. But I could still use a strong arm to help me…just a bit,” she admitted, giving him her most endearing grin.

  He returned her smile then stuck out his arm. “’Tis all yours, my lady.”

  Bell Heather let out a giggle, then looped her thin arm through his thicker, wider one.

  Before she knew it, they had returned to the camp, and Bell Heather was shocked to find everything as it was as if no one had been there. Someone had filled in the fire pit, the ground had been cleared of boot prints, and all the men were mounted and staring at them as they approached.

  She recognized Tristin immediately. He was wearing his full armor, including his helmet, sitting atop his giant black horse. Just like the day before, his visor cover his face, obliterating any view she would have had of his expression. What was he hiding behind there?

  “I see you have regained the use of your feet.” Tristin’s deep voice sounded all the more menacing through the barrier of his visor.

  “Aye,” she replied, refusing to let him cow her. But that didn’t last long; Tristin kicked his horse into motion, bringing the beast toward her. Her breath caught and she found she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the massive hooves. He stopped just in front of her, and before she could think to scream, an arm snaked down and wrapped around her waist, dragging her onto the saddle.

  As her wits returned, she realized she was seated on the beast, in front of Tristin; his chest at her back, his arms around her waist, and the ground one hundred feet below. She tensed, leaning back to stop the spinning in her head.

  The arms around her tightened, and she realized her mistake. She’d pressed herself into Tristin’s chest, like a scared babe looking for succor. Damn!

  “Bear,” Tristin called, and Heather felt his voice rumble through his armor and into her back. “Take up the rear.”

  Bell Heather watched as the large man looked from her to his captain, then gave a sharp nod. Bear donned his gleaming helmet, visor up, and barked, “Yes, Captain.” As she watched, Bear mounted his large brown steed and rode toward the back of the line of armored knights.

  Tristin raised a hand and, without a word, kicked his horse into a brisk walk. Bell Heather could hear the men cantering behind them, the clatter of their steel and iron seeming louder than it had been the day before.

  Now that she thought of it, she’d been asleep for most of the journey the day before, tucked into Tristin’s arms, just as she was now. Except, now, she was fully awake and fully aware of him behind her. His heat, his scent, his strength, it seeped into her, filling her with sensations best left beaten to death beside the creek where he kissed her. Right next to her pride.

  Sucking in a deep breath, she tensed. I will not let him best me. I will face my fate with my back straight and my eyes set only before me. I will return home, and when I do, I never want to think of Tristin again.

  “Take this. Eat.” Tristin produced a piece of dried meat, and Bell Heather looked at it dubiously. “It is not poisoned.”

  She shrugged and took the meat, biting into it. It tasted of salt and smoke, and it melted in her mouth. She groaned, then took another bite. Tristin stiffened behind her, his breastplate moving away from her back as if he were pulling away from her.

  Good, then, she thought, refusing to give attention to her disappointment. She finished the meat in three more bites, and Tristin produced a small leather bottle. She opened it and took a sniff. Water. She pressed the mouth to her lips and took a long drink. Once her thirst was satiated, she held out the leather bottle and he took it. All without a word.

  So be it. If he chooses to ride in silence, then who am I to demand otherwise?

  Their painfully silent, tense ride took them past rolling hills of green, large rocky out croppings, and moors and meadows dotted with sheep. If she wasn’t headed for her own trial, she would have appreciated the beauty of it all. The bright, blue sky, the great golden sun shining down, the sweet breeze kissing her cheeks and whispering through her hair.

  It could have been glorious… If only it were a different time, and Tristin were a different man. A man of gentleness and thoughtfulness…not of blood and cold disregard. A sigh escaped before she could stop it, and she flinched at the sound of her own wistfulness.

  If Tristin heard it, he said nothing. Thankfully. She wasn’t ready to spar with him again, not after his demand that she ride with him and him alone. Had he intended to keep her separate from the other men, lest she bespell them with her witchery? Nay. He’d sent Bear with her. Mayhaps he liked to watch her suffer at his hand.

  Snorting, she crossed her arms over her chest—which was a little more difficult with metal clad arms tucked in around the indent of her waist. Giving up on the gesture, she let her hands fall on his thighs and immediately regretted it. While there was a layer of armor between his flesh and hers, the intimacy of the placement was startlingly apparent. She gasped, pulling her hands away and finally tucking them into her lap, just behind where his were clasped, holding the reins.

  Again, she said nothing. And Bell Heather wondered if there was a man of blood beneath the wall of metal and the face of stone.

  At the waterfall, he’d been…different. There had been an air of tension, aye, but it wasn’t fear that had fueled it. It had been something deeper, something that even now drank from her senses. And at the creek…he’d held her, his body pressed into hers, and he kissed her. His kiss had been gentle at first, and then he’d plundered her, stealing the breath and sense from her body. She’d wanted to wrap herself up in him and never come out.

  And now, she couldn’t imagine where that man had gone. And she hated that she missed him. Craved him.

  Angry at the trail of thoughts, she forced herself to think on her plight. She was headed toward Cieldon, and most likely a dank cell. If Willem Mason were her accuser, she’d have to face him, before the Cardinal, and plead her case. Would the cardinal listen to her? Would Willem Mason spew ever more lies about her? And for what? Because she’d refused to be used by him?

  Ye can run…hide… A voice she’d never heard before surfaced with a clanging. Run? Hide? Nay. The Homme du Sang were a fearsome lot. They would chase her to the ends of creation if they had to. And besides that, they never let her out of their sight. Even when she was urinating, they were within hearing, waiting. And, even if she could slink away from the
m, her feet were still too raw to get far enough away to hide. And where would she hide? She didn’t even know where they were, let alone how to get back to Clarendon. Nay…she couldn’t go back there. They’d look there. If she ran, she could never go home. She could never see Maude again. She would never be free.

  But if she stayed…if she laid her fate in the Cardinal’s hands, would he find mercy in his heart? Would he let her go?

  A sour despair writhed within her, uncertainty a hideous snake in her belly.

  Closing her eyes against the rising sick, she swallowed, forcing slow breaths through her nose.

  Ye will get home. Ye will…even if only to be buried beside mother.

  Bell Heather blinked away the burn of tears and focused on the road ahead. As the horse beneath her rocked, and as the sunlight from above her eased into her bones, she was lulled to sleep in Tristin’s arms.

  She came awake at a shout, her mind foggy for only a moment before she realized they had come to a stop before a small, dilapidated cottage. The walls were crumbling, the door was missing, and the thatched roof was bald in several spots. The cottage looked to have been abandoned months ago.

  “We will rest here and wait for Glenn,” Tristin announced. To her, he murmured, “I will dismount then help you down.”

  She could only nod, as the thought of sliding off the beast and into Tristin’s waiting arms blazed in her head. Tis just a horse, and he is just a man…

  If only the latter were true.

  Leaning forward, Bell Heather tried to put as much space between her and Tristin as she could, but she could feel the bunch and twitch of his thigh muscles as he maneuvered to dismount. She held her breath and was soon alone in the saddle. Turning, her eyes wide, to look down at him, she noticed he’d removed his helmet and was staring up at her with his black eyes. His lips were set in a grim line, as if he had eaten some bad dried meat.

  Realizing he was waiting for her, she reached down to him, and he lifted her easily, sliding her to the ground in a single movement.

  “Pierre, see to the horses,” he commanded as he walked toward the broken cottage. He bent his head and entered the cramped and filthy dwelling. Inside were overturned furniture and a single chair beside the cold hearth. He set her in the chair and silently went about pulling crates over for others to sit on.

  The one named David entered, followed by Aster, John, and Elric.

  Elric’s piercing gaze flicked between her and Tristin, and she wondered what the man was thinking.

  “Captain,” Elric began, “the men and I would like to go into the village. We made good time, and we could use the respite.”

  Tristin tensed. “All of you?”

  David stepped forward. “Nay. Bear will stay.”

  For some reason, that made Bell Heather’s heart a little lighter. Bear would offer a sort of levity she was in sore need of.

  Considering David’s words, Tristin’s eyebrows dipped in thought, his jaw muscles working.

  “Go. You have until midday. Make no enemies,” he said, almost as an afterthought. The men smiled.

  “We cannot promise that, but we will certainly try to make friends,” John said, wiggling his bright red eyebrows.

  Elric chuckled. “I will do my best to keep them in line.”

  “See that you do,” Tristin said, a touch of humor in his voice.

  With that, the men quit the cottage, leaving her alone, again, with Tristin.

  The room was much too small for him; she could feel him even though he were several feet away. Not far enough. Not near enough. Frustration pricked at her.

  “Ye could have gone with them,” she snapped.

  Tristin spun, pinning her with his gleaming midnight eyes. “And leave you alone to escape?” he scoffed. “Not likely, Bell. Elric knows what I need, I have no need of a venture into the village.”

  But he didn’t want to be there with her, either. She could tell by the wide legged stance and the fists at his sides. “Ye could tie me to this chair. Twould be easy enough, aye?”

  He raised an eyebrow, as if contemplating her offer.

  “And, how far could I get, besides? I have no inkling of where we are, and I have no desire to be lost in the dark once the night comes. There are dangers in the woods.” Oh, aye, like when she was discovered, naked in the dark woods, the night he had crashed into her life.

  Could he read her thoughts? He must have, because his nostrils flared, and a flash of smoke appeared behind his eyes. Nay. He didn’t remember her. He couldn’t. Otherwise he would have said something, he would have thrown her wickedness in her face and let her roil in her shame.

  “Do ye have any more water?” she asked, desperate to speak into the crushing tension in the room.

  As if water had splashed down over him, Tristin’s presence cooled. The stiffness was still there in his stance, but the heat in his eyes had been doused. If that’s what it had been.

  Just then, Bear ducked into the cottage, his large frame barely fitting through the slight doorway. He was carrying a sack in one hand and a full bladder of water in the other.

  “I had a feeling you would be needing this, my lady,” Bear said, smiling.

  Ignoring Tristin, Bear strode to her and laid the sack at her feet. He handed her the bladder and then bent to rifle through the sack. He pulled out a chunk of dry bread and a small apple.

  Her mouth began to water, that piece of dried meat Tristin had given her was nowhere near a filling meal.

  Bear grinned and handed her the food.

  “There now, I have fulfilled the rest of my duty to you, my lady. I have made sure to feed you,” he said, casting a lingering glance over his shoulder to Tristin, who was standing, staring at them. The smoke had returned to swirl in his eyes, and Bell Heather wondered at the why of it.

  Surely, Tristin didn’t begrudge her the food and water. Perhaps he didn’t like any of his men speaking to her with such familiarity. Perhaps he just didn’t like her at all.

  Starving, and uncaring of Tristin’s manner toward her, she shrugged and bit into the apple. The sweetness burst in her mouth and she laughed. “Oh, but that is delicious!”

  Bear winked at her. “Only the best for my lady,” he effused, his cheeks turning a ruddy color that nearly matched his beard. As if sensing his captain’s displeased regard, he slid a hand into his mess of auburn hair and stood.

  “Thank ye, Bear,” she offered, then took another bite of the apple. Only now…it tasted of ashes.

  Bear pulled another apple from the sack and went across the room to sit just inside the doorway; far enough away from her but close enough to keep her safe, lest enemies burst through the door.

  Though she would have been happy enough to ignore Tristin altogether, her gaze swept from Bear to his captain, and that’s where it stayed. Tristin was now standing, his back to her, gazing out the opening where the window once was.

  So, he sought to ignore her again? So be it.

  “Bear,” she uttered around a piece of apple, “from where do ye hail?”

  Bear swallowed his own piece of apple and replied, “Wilmington in Devonshire.”

  Another place she’d never heard of. “Oh? Is it beautiful there?”

  Bear’s bright brown eyes took on a hazy, distant look. “Oh, aye. Beautiful…”

  Bell Heather wondered if it was the place or someone he’d left there that had given him such a faraway stare.

  She finished her apple, tossing the core into the wreck of the hearth, then asked, “And how did ye come to be a knight?”

  His gazed focused on her again, and his grin turned false. “Well, that is a story for another time.”

  Surprised, she paused in chewing a piece of bread to regard him curiously. Every man had their secrets, and Bear was entitled to his.

  She shrugged. “What will ye do, once this…mission is complete?” She hated referring to herself thus, but she refused to let the fear and despair take hold of her again.

  There, h
is true smile returned. “Once we return to Wilmington, I will take my daughter, Marian, to the harvest faire in Woodbury.”

  Bell Heather smiled at the joy radiating from the large man’s face.

  “She has been begging to go ever since I took her last year,” he said, beaming. If Bear had a daughter, did he have a wife?

  Bell Heather knew nothing of knights and their vows, but she couldn’t imagine a dutiful wife, waiting at home, wondering if her husband would return whole.

  And what of Tristin? Suddenly, her mind conjured an image of Tristin, riding through the gates of a castle, his smile brighter than the sun above. He was rushing to get home and into the arms of the woman that was waiting there for him. He galloped into the courtyard just as the woman he loved bound from the castle doors, he dismounts and catches her in his embrace, twirling her as happy laughter filled the air. As her laughter filled the air.

  Startled from her thoughts by the image of her beaming face staring up into Tristin’s, she shoved the last piece of bread into her mouth to keep herself from cursing.

  The pound of hoof beats sounded through the thin cottage walls, and immediately Bear was on his feet, and he and Tristin were standing at the ready, hands on their swords.

  “Ho!” someone called from outside, and both men in the cottage relaxed.

  A tall, bald man, with a short white beard appeared, followed by a man so unlike the other knights, she wasn’t sure how he’d become one in the first place. His florid face was puffy, his neck obscured by twin chins, and his armor fit ill against the bulge of his belly.

  “Robert, Gaubin,” Tristin drawled, “What brings you back so soon?”

  Robert presented a small sack. “Elric said to bring you this.”

  Tristin’s face lit with understanding and he took the sack.

  Without even sparing a glance at Gaubin, Tristin turned to Bell Heather and strode toward her. He stopped just in front of her and tossed the sack at her feet.

  “What is this?” she asked, wary. With Tristin’s mood, it could very well be an angry hedgehog.