Warriors Of Legend

by Kathryn Le Veque, Kathryn Loch, Dana D'Angelo

  He closed his eyes, marveling at his exhaustion from the simple action. Micah remembered something about poison and terrible pain. Yet Kate had remained with him the whole time. He looked up at her again.

  She was a mess. Her hair tangled about her face. Lines of fatigue marred her skin and Kate’s gray eyes betrayed an agony he had never seen before.

  “What happened?” His voice grated in his throat.

  “You fell ill, Micah,” she said and touched his cheek with a shaking hand. “You’re going to be all right now.”

  Micah stared at her, trying to piece together his fragmented visions but nothing made sense. The door opened and John entered.

  “Welcome back, my friend.”

  Micah sat up and wavered unsteadily as the air in the room vibrated. “What happened?” He asked again.

  “Someone poisoned you, Micah,” John said. “Worry not. Kate tended you well and we have caught the assassin.”

  He frowned, his head throbbing and his stomach aching. “Assassin?”

  “Six men died, Micah. You alone survived thanks to Kate.”

  “Micah,” she said. “You need to rest.”

  He nodded mutely. He could figure it out when the room stopped spinning.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Two weeks later, Micah descended the stairs to the great hall, leaning heavily on the banister. His recovery had been infernally slow and he still felt as weak as a kitten. Another winter storm raged outside so most of Micah’s men gathered in the great hall drinking and throwing dice. His gaze fell on Kate sitting in her chair before the hearth. She worked intently on some embroidery, her needle flashing as it moved through dark blue fabric.

  Micah’s spirits lifted as he watched her. Not too long ago Kate had been terrified of the great hall. Now she worked without concern, her hands steady.

  Because of Kate, he survived the poison. For a moment, Micah closed his eyes, vibrantly aware of his heart beating within his chest and his lungs rhythmically breathing. He traced his fingers over the smooth wood of the banister and listened intently to the laughter and revelry. Micah smelled a wonderful scent of roast venison wafting from the kitchens as Mary prepared the food for this evening’s meal. Warmth radiated from the large fire in the hearth and caressed his skin. He again focused on Kate.

  He experienced these things only because of her.

  Micah straightened his shoulders and walked across the hall to Kate. She looked up, startled, and he smiled.

  “Micah,” she said and shoved her embroidery down into her chair. “I thought you were sleeping.” She took his hand and guided him to his chair where he sat heavily.

  “I awoke and found myself bored.”

  Kate’s fingers traced over his cheek. His skin tingled, and he savored the intense sensation.

  “How are you feeling?”

  “Better but still unsteady.”

  “Would you like some watered ale?”

  He nodded. Micah’s stomach still protested heartier drink and food but it gradually improved.

  Kate summoned a servant then returned to her own chair, still holding Micah’s hand. “Mary has taken control of the kitchens with added vigilance,” Kate said. “No one prepares any food or drink without her knowledge or observation.”

  Micah arched an eyebrow. “I hope Mary knows I do not blame her for what Sarah did.”

  Kate nodded. “I think she does. Still, Mary feels responsible since the kitchens are her domain.”

  The servant returned with Micah’s ale. Micah took it and his gaze slid across his men, stopping on William. “How goes the little love triangle?”

  Kate’s eyes sparked. “John and Hubert have been hard pressed to keep William out of the dungeon.”

  Micah scowled. “I thought after—”

  Kate held up her hand. “They have been hard pressed to keep William from killing Sarah. Once he found out what happened, his opinion of Sarah changed dramatically. But Tobin still visits her.”

  Micah nodded, feeling better that William had come to his senses. “Has she said who have her the gold?”

  “Nay,” Kate replied tightly. “John says Sarah may go to a convent if she gives us a name but until then she stays in the dungeons. I dislike having her in my home even if she is locked away.”

  Micah squeezed Kate’s hand reassuringly. “You still have not told me all that happened during my illness.”

  Kate’s gray eyes abruptly filled with tears and she looked away. “That is because I can only remember how close I came to losing you.”

  A peaceful warmth gripped him. Micah had never experienced such a sensation before and his joy of being alive caused him to savor it. He tugged Kate’s hand to his lips, and lightly kissed her soft skin. “I am sorry, Kate, but I must know.”

  She sighed. “You suffered a few fits but I was able to control them with Hemlock.”

  Micah’s jaw went slack.

  “The worst of it was when the priest tried to bleed you.”

  “Bleed me?” he asked in shock.

  “Aye, I’ve never heard of such a thing,” she said, her eyes sparking angrily. “It seems the monks have been doing this in their cloisters for a long time as part of their penance. Now they believe it promotes healing.” She paused and shook her head. “No doubt it is just a religious zeal which will pass quickly…I hope. I refused to allow the priest to touch you with that dagger.”

  Micah’s heart swelled. Kate had indeed saved his life, even risking the condemnation of the church. The fetters around his soul loosened. Micah leaned closer. “Thank you, my sweet,” he whispered.

  Kate blinked at him in surprise.

  He smiled at her shocked expression. “I owe you my life, Kate.”

  She blushed and ducked her head. “‘Twas Providence, Micah, nothing I did. You are too stubborn to die.”

  Micah laughed and let the matter go. Kate was too self–conscious to accept his praise, but he knew the truth. The truth warmed his heart in a way he had never known. He stood and tugged Kate to her feet. “Come.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “We need to continue our discussion privately.”

  “Continue?”

  Micah smiled and tugged again on her hand. “Come.” He paused, spotting the keys on her belt. “I thought John said you lost those?”

  Kate blushed furiously. “I did. We looked all over the place. A couple of days later I found them on the desk in the study. I don’t remember going in there. Of course, I had much more important things to worry about.”

  Micah nodded. “At least I won’t have to summon the locksmith now.” Again he tugged on her hand.

  Kate followed him up the stairs. Micah found his weakness fading in the wake of the emotions rioting within him. A part of him wanted to automatically recoil, to hide from the unfamiliar sensations. But something else had changed in him. Was it just his joy of being alive or because Kate had done so much to save him? Perhaps it was both. They entered the solar and Micah bolted the door behind him.

  He gazed down at Kate who watched him uncertainly, her gray eyes wide and liquid. Her auburn hair glistened with amber and golden fire. Micah caressed her soft skin, admiring her beautiful face.

  A strange voice inside Micah screamed at him. Is it possible? Does she truly care about me?

  Micah closed his eyes. He could not, dared not, think of that. Even as he tried to force the idea away, his arms pulled Kate tightly to him, his lips brushed the top of her head, and he savored the feel of her body against his.

  He was wrong to think she cared. Micah stood as Kate’s protector, the knight who had freed her, her husband by a constrained marriage, nothing more.

  Kate shifted in his arms. His lips touched her temple, feeling the soft warmth of her skin.

  Micah thought himself nothing to her. He was the man who tried to take her home away after MacLeary nearly destroyed her.

  Her silky hair caressed his face. He nuzzled her ear and her arms tightened around
him.

  He had given her nothing, no lands, not even an honorable name.

  Micah’s tongue traced the soft curves of Kate’s ear, and moved down the side of her neck. She moaned softly, relaxing against him.

  “Micah,” she whispered, her fingers tracing the sweeping line of his cheek.

  In that instant, a tiny part of him knew. Kate had spoken the truth the eve of his drunken bonfire. She had wanted to marry him not to save herself from the convent but because she cared about him.

  Micah kissed her throat with a gentleness and a reverence he never knew he possessed. His fingers untied the laces of her dress just as she fumbled with his belt and tunic. Micah freed them of their clothes then eased her back on the bed. He covered her with his body, pushing her into the softness of the bed, keeping her safe.

  Micah’s lips traced across her collarbone. Kate’s fingers threaded through his hair. The black locks trailed across her breast, a vibrant contrast to her pale skin. Her nipple pearled and for an instant he marveled that the simple touch of his hair made her body react. He forgot the random thought as he took her breast in his mouth. She gasped, her hands tightening in his hair.

  Softly, gently, he swirled his tongue around the vibrant bud, feeling it peak so wonderfully in his mouth. Her skin was smoother than any silk he had ever touched. His hands caressed her, savoring every curve, every line of her sweet form.

  Desire flourished within Micah, warm and glorious, stirring his loins as he released one breast only to capture the other. His passion was no longer a ragged, clawing, primitive thing like before. He longed to make slow, healing love to Kate, to soothe her fears, and bring peace to her heart.

  Micah’s fingers slid down the inside of Kate’s thigh, she trembled in anticipation. Her moans turned to soft murmurs of his name. Her hands explored the power of his body. He touched her intimately and she froze underneath him. He stroked her lightly, not prodding her to greater heights but comforting her into relaxation. She moaned again, her body unclenching completely under him. Her legs opened slightly as he continued to touch her. He released her breast long enough to look down at her. She closed her eyes, and her body responded to his touch.

  Her femininity was hot and wet but Micah simply fondled her gently. Just as Kate’s hands had once eased the pain and tension from his body, so did he with hers. He lightened his touch purposefully. She stiffened and her throaty moan surprised him. He watched her body as his fingers worked. Was it possible? Could he bring her to fulfillment with the softest of caresses?

  A tremor moved through her and she opened herself even more but Micah did not alter his purpose. He watched while she became a slave to her own body. Kate stiffened, clawing at the sheets as the tempest seized her. Good glory, she was beautiful in the throes of her fulfillment. Micah’s need throbbed within him but this was so much different than before.

  Kate settled into a dreamy contentment and Micah moved to kiss her thigh. The scent of her, strong and heady, filled him. He lightly nipped her other thigh, closer to his goal. Still she did not move, never realizing his intent.

  He kissed her, his tongue tracing her soft folds. The taste of her…finer than any wine, sweeter than honey. She gasped, startled, and trembled under him. He devoured her, stroking his tongue across the hard nub he found in a slow, even rhythm. Her hips moved in time with his mouth. She stretched her arms above her head and arched her back…magnificent…glorious.

  This time he prodded her to greater heights but gently, slowly. With sweet abandon she achieved them. He could no longer ignore his body. Micah moved, kissing Kate’s flat stomach, then capturing her breast in his mouth once more. His need was a fierce thing compared to her innocently honest responses. He entered her slowly as if approaching a most sacred place.

  He answered her moans with one of his own as he filled her, molding her flesh to his, joining their bodies in glorious passion. He flexed within her and her hips rose to meet him. Her arms and legs wrapped around him as if she suddenly protected him, holding him tenderly within the depths of her body. He thrust again into her, reveling in the sweet peace that descended on him. His tempo increased but it still did not match the intensity of the past.

  The inexorable demand of release built within him. He touched Kate’s face and she opened her eyes. Dusky charcoal, her eyes locked him in her gaze. He cupped her face in his hands. Another tremor rocked through her.

  “Look at me, ma chérie,” he murmured. “Do not close your eyes.”

  Her body convulsed again but her eyes remained on his. He pushed harder within her and suddenly realized how difficult his command was to obey. Kate’s eyes sparked like silver stars as the final wave took her. Her nails dug into his back, and her legs tightened around him. She whispered his name, her gaze reaching straight to his heart.

  Reasoning abandoned him and pure ecstasy roared through his body with brilliant fire. His eyes never left hers. Like Kate’s fulfillment, his surged through him, intense but deeply serene. Micah offered all of himself and bound Kate to his soul.

  He collapsed on top of her, once again struggling to breathe. A peace he could not define, settled in his heart. The pain from his past released its terrible claws from his soul. He knew he had made a truly important discovery but his muddled brain could not comprehend it.

  With a reluctant groan, Micah rolled onto his back and tucked Kate securely next to him. She tensed for a moment. Micah held her close and kissed her. He stroked her hair and face with his fingers. Kate slowly relaxed, curling her leg over his and wrapping an arm around his waist. She kissed his neck and settled closer. Her breath caressed his skin, warm and sweet.

  Micah closed his eyes, his hands lightly stroking her. He continued to explore her body with well–sated enjoyment. He delighted in holding her, reveling in the aftermath of their passion. As he drifted off to sleep, he wondered why he had never truly appreciated this before.

  ***

  Micah discovered a new relationship with Kate over the next few weeks. On the morning of Christmas Eve, he awoke before dawn. His health and strength had returned. Micah’s attention focused on the new quietness in his heart. Since making love to Kate just after his recovery, the change had descended on him and remained although he was uncertain why.

  Yet after the past two years, Micah welcomed the peace. He found himself taking pleasure in simpler things, especially if something he did brought a smile to Kate’s lips. Still, Micah marveled at himself. Did he act like a dandy just because of Kate?

  He chuckled, and once again left Kate sleeping soundly in his bed. Micah dressed, intending to enjoy the dawn of a new morning before he turned his attention to the Christmas celebration planned at Appleby. The lords under Appleby’s protective shadow would celebrate the holy day with their new baron and baroness.

  Micah donned his heavy cloak and left the keep. The icy air caressed his face. His breath plumed before him and his boots crunched loudly in the snow. Micah wandered the bailey noting the men on guard duty maintained their vigilance around a small fire.

  He glanced up and saw clear skies, the bright stars shining like frosty diamonds. The eastern horizon glowed a slightly brighter blue than the rest of the deep indigo blanketing the earth. Appleby’s towers stood as dark monoliths, with the faint outline of scaffolding surrounding them. The repairs took longer than Micah wished, not only because of the weather, but also because he converted the towers to stronger round ones instead of square.

  As he gazed at Appleby’s towers, Micah eagerly anticipated the future before him. A future at Appleby with Kate as his wife.

  Love, home and a family.

  Perhaps his dreams did exist.

  A shadow of movement on the scaffolding turned his pleasant thoughts into concern. Did the guards patrol the platforms? In this weather, the scaffolds iced as slick as a frozen lake and were just as dangerous – Micah had discovered that first hand when he almost fell. He moved quickly to the fire where the guards warmed themselves.
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br />   “Serjant,” he called to the ranking man at arms.

  The man jerked around, paling when he saw Micah. “Baron, what’s wrong?”

  “Have you men up on the towers?” Micah pointed; a second shadow joined the first.

  “Nay,” the serjant replied. He drew his sword and barked at his men. “To arms!”

  The guards lunged toward the construction. The rally cry echoed through the bailey and awakened the entire keep. Micah grabbed an extra sword and followed his men. They climbed the ladders like squirrels up a tree.

  The shadows ahead scrambled faster. Micah closed the distance, able to discern two heavily cloaked figures, the first much larger than the second. He scowled. In fact, the second looked like a very young woman.

  Sarah!

  Rage cut through Micah. Who dared to defy him and free the woman who had tried to kill him?

  MacLeary.

  The two shadows tried to use the scaffolding on the towers to clear the walls. Since Micah ordered Appleby’s gates locked every night, the platforms proved the only way out of the bailey. Danger hounded every step, not only for the two people trying to flee but for Micah’s men in pursuit.

  He heard John’s familiar shout in the bailey and paused. Hubert stood next to him, his bow strung.

  “Someone tries to free Sarah,” Micah bellowed.

  John directed more men at arms, sending them out through the gate. Micah nodded in satisfaction. The escape would soon be cut off but it would take time for his men to sprint from the gate around to the tower.

  “Hold!” Micah barked. His men on the construction stopped and the two shadows paused. “There’s nowhere to go,” Micah shouted at the shadows. “Cease this foolishness and I will let you live.”

  The larger shadow moved closer to Sarah. In the growing light of the morning sky, Micah saw his features in greater detail. His face appeared brutally handsome, with a neatly trimmed beard. His dark eyes chilled Micah. Dread settled over his spirit and made his skin crawl. The man seemed vaguely familiar.

  “You are a fool, Baron,” Sarah screeched at him. “Appleby is cursed, you and your dogs will fall to it.”