by Traci E Hall
Celestia was grateful when Nicholas broke eye contact. She’d been powerless to pull away from his dark, judgmental gaze. It was this very thing she’d thought to avoid last night when he’d asked about her vision. His jaw looked to be carved from hard marble; his posture was just as cold. Had she frightened him, as she had Petyr, with her gift? Her heart beat painfully against her chest, but she wouldn’t show him that she was affected. She could be just as outwardly cold as he.
He hid his pain well, but she could detect it. And thanks to Gram’s revelation, she searched for vulnerable fear, which she couldn’t find in the set of his brow.
Could she live with her husband’s hate? She lifted her chin defiantly. She was a healer, by all that was holy, and she would continue to use her gifts until they disappeared under Nicholas’s disdain.
She made a running jump onto her horse, grabbing the saddle horn and pulling herself up. Not being tall, she’d had to develop upper arm strength that held her in good stead while she practiced with her bow and arrow.
She was both a woman and a renowned healer, descended of a Warrior Queen. If she couldn’t cure her husband, then who could?
Petyr rose and mounted his horse, glaring at any who dared to stare. “My apologies, Lord Nicholas,” he growled. “But liege or no, if ye think to tap me again without a fight, ye’ll be sorry.”
Nicholas said nothing.
Celestia refused to cower as Petyr turned his ire to her. “You may be a healer, or you may be a witch,” he raised his hand to stop anyone from coming forward to defend her name, “but if I need healing again, I will thank you to let me suffer instead.”
Lady Evianne snorted. “Fool. Let him know the meaning of pain, then. Are ye all right, ‘Tia?”
The burn of rejection stung, and knowing that Nicholas witnessed it made the sting twice as painful. “I am.”
“Liar,” her grandmother teased.
Sir Geoffrey, Bess, and Viola all sent her an encouraging smile as the wagon lumbered forward. These were the people who understood her.
Maybe she was making a mistake, venturing so far from home. What skills did she have in running a manor? She did not make new friends easily. She should turn around now and—her family was relying on her to save her brothers. Catching sight of Nicholas as he checked the line, Celestia wondered if he realized they both were equally trapped by family and honor.
They rode in silence for a while, and Celestia’s anger stewed. He could not possibly believe that she was a witch! Finally she could take no more, and she cantered forward. “Nicholas, wait, I would have a word with you.”
“Not now,” he said, turning his back on her.
“How dare you dismiss me?” she blurted in disbelief, her bare hands tightening around the leather strips in anger. “Do you think to treat me poorly, without giving me a chance to explain?”
His gray eyes were akin to chips of ice as he looked at her. “What makes you think that I would believe what you say?”
Ceffyl pulled short as Celestia yanked up. “You don’t know what you are talking about.”
“I will tell you what I know.” He leaned forward so that his words were for her alone. “This caravan needs to find shelter before nightfall. The roads are not friendly after dark, and I would hate to put everyone at risk. I believe we are being followed, and until I know whether it is by friend or foe, we ride on a little faster. This is precisely why I didn’t want any wagons.”
Celestia fought the urge to turn around and look behind them. “That is your strategy? To ride a little faster?” Ceffyl, picking up Celestia’s panic, sidestepped on the road.
He clenched his jaw and she saw him count to ten before he explained, “Stephan has circled ‘round the back with Forrester to protect us from the rear. It could be nothing.”
Or it could be the danger she’d envisioned.
“Get near the wagon,” he instructed.
“Nay, I will be with you.” She stared to reach for the pack slung over her horse’s rear, but Nicholas took her hand and squeezed tight.
“Must you argue, now? I need to concentrate, and you are distracting me. Stay calm and do not alarm the others. We have but an hour’s ride until we reach Middon.” He gave her hand another warning squeeze before releasing it.
Chastised but not beaten, Celestia allowed Nicholas to ride ahead of her. He could think he was in charge all he wanted, but she wasn’t going to let him out of sword’s reach.
Nicholas could feel Celestia’s eyes boring into his back like sharpened stakes. After his time in captivity, he no longer feared the unknown. It was the human element that had his healthy respect. Never once had he seen a spiritual entity, and heaven knew he had prayed for intervention with all of his might. The men who had held him imprisoned had done more harm than any ghost or demon could have, and when the men were finished, Leah was there with a different kind of torture.
He was none too proud to admit there had been times when he would have gladly traded his soul to the devil in exchange for death. In the end, he’d lost his soul anyway.
He glanced down at his wrists. The tight manacles hadn’t been the worst that had been done to him, although the scars served as a reminder to be on his guard. Against everyone, man or woman. Nobody could be trusted.
Nicholas had been allowing Celestia, with her fey beauty and her brave spirit, to affect him. It had been a blessing that she’d revealed her uncanny nature before it was too late and he found himself caring for her despite his vows.
Refusing to look behind him, even though his wife’s anger was a tangible thing, he let his gaze drift over the green of the trees. There had been a time when he had not been vigilant enough, and Lord knew, he was still paying the price for his folly.
He did not believe in witchery, despite what he had just witnessed with his own two eyes. There were people trained in herbal medicine who could perform near miracles. One of the Saracen priests in Tripoli had been so talented that he’d kept Nicholas alive long after he’d been beaten in both body and spirit. Watching Celestia heal Petyr had thrown him back in time.
As if the thought conjured him from thin air, Petyr was suddenly visible in the distance. He’d gone ahead to find possible shelter. What was Nicholas going to do about his head knight? Sighing, he continued to peruse the area. He was going to put Celestia in Petyr’s care, and go on with his plans for vengeance. That was all.
Nicholas lifted a hand as Petyr trotted toward him, already talking. “There’s a smaller village, halfway to Middon. We can stop there, if need be. Set the tents in the fields.”
Nicholas returned Petyr’s curt message with a nod. He probably shouldn’t have punched him in the nose, but the man would have to stop badgering. The pressure of being in charge rode heavily on Nicholas’s shoulders.
He turned Brenin and rode to the back of the caravan, taking the glares from Celestia’s servants as his due. They could be angry; they just couldn’t die.
He heard the sound of pounding hooves and tensed his hand over the hilt of his sword. Relieved, he saw it was Forrester and Stephan racing around a curve in the road, with a boy thrown facedown over the rear of Stephan’s horse. Nicholas stayed near the wagon and waited until the riders got closer. The boy was scruffy but dressed in the Montehue green.
Celestia, who had stayed right on his heels, kicked her mount and rode by him.
“Abner?”
The boy looked up, a grin splitting his dirty face. “Lady Celestia!”
Again, Nicholas was speechless as Celestia fearlessly halted Ceffyl near Forrester’s large warhorse. Had she no idea how dangerous that was? “What is wrong? Release him at once, he’s our stable boy.”
Abner had already dropped to the ground, as agile as a monkey, Nicholas noticed with a pang. The boy glanced around, excitement in his voice. “Lord Nicholas, Lord Nicholas!”
“What have you?” Nicholas said, a reluctant smile tugging at his mouth even though he worried over the news. The lad could not c
ontain his joy at being a messenger, yet he doubted Abner had run all day just to return a forgotten brooch or a glove.
Sprinting across the road, Abner said, “The Lord Robert, he sent me with a message—the baron’s men, they came right after you left this morn! Hundreds of them, well, not so many as that, but there were a lot—”
“You’ve been following us all day?” Celestia led Ceffyl away from the large stallions before dismounting, and Nicholas was able to breathe a little easier, seeing her out of harm’s way. “Here, drink,” she said, handing over her leather waterskin without thought to her rank, or the boy’s.
Abner stared up, hesitant to take it.
Nicholas was about to intervene, when Celestia clucked her tongue and put the skin in Abner’s hand. “Drink, all of it, or you will be sick. Was I to save you over the winter only to have you ill now? I think not,” she tapped her foot expectantly and Abner drained the last of the water before handing the skin back.
“Excellent. What news have you, now?”
Calmer, Abner took a deep breath and recited from memory, “I’m to tell Lord Nicholas that Crispin Monastery has been burned to ashes.”
“What? The abbot?” Nicholas curved his hand to a fist.
Abner stammered, “He lives, my lord, but barely so. With Lady Evianne and Lady Celestia both away from the manor …”
“I’ll go back,” Celestia said, already turning for her horse.
“Wait!” Nicholas dismounted and knelt before Abner so that they would be face to face. “The monastery is gone? Why?” Dread filled him from the top of his head to the pit of his stomach. “They were good men.
Godly men.” Better than he, for certes.
“Were there other survivors?”
Abner shrugged, then chewed his lip, as if trying to pull the exact words from memory. “The abbot says to tell ye that he thinks the baron is looking for something.” The boy shivered and Nicholas noticed the cooling spring air, and the dusk that was falling like a scarf over a lamp. Soon it would be dark, and there was no time for them all to make it back to Montehue Manor safely.
Abner added, “The abbot told me that it’s supposed to be a secret.”
“Something is a secret? Or someone?” Celestia asked, staring at Nicholas.
Nicholas stood, his heart heavy. “The baron cannot be looking for me. He has sent me on the road he wants, and,” he gestured to the knights who still wore blue and gold, “he even sent his own men to make certain I get there.”
The knights protested that they’d sworn fealty to him, but Nicholas shook his head. “Why would the baron burn the monastery?”
“No!” Abner said, rocking from side to side. “No, the baron’s men were there to rescue the abbot from the flames of retr, ret—” Abner’s face reddened. “I forgot.”
“Then who did it? Who is responsible?” Sir Forrester put his hand on Abner’s shoulder, as if that would hasten the telling process.
“Don’t know, the abbot just wanted to warn you, he said,” Abner’s eyes widened, “to beware.”
Nicholas turned, staring at the woods around him. Beware of what?
Celestia did not care for the hunted look on Nicholas’s face. “Well, that is a cryptic message, if I’ve ever heard one. Do you like puzzles, my lord?” She kept her tone light, and walked over to where Nicholas stood as still as a deer in the woods.
She slowly brought her hand to his sleeve and let it rest there, sending what soothing thoughts she could.
His cheeks were pale beneath his tanned skin, and she surmised that he was grieving for those lost or injured in the monastery. “I will go to Abbot Crispin, and heal him myself. In truth, mayhap we should all go back to the manor. It will be safer than pushing forward, with an unseen enemy at our backs.”
“Nay,” he pushed her fingers from his arm. “You belong with me.”
“I will go,” Lady Evianne said. “My place is there. It was a longing for adventure that brought me on this journey, and now I’ve had enough.” She laughed. “I vow that Sir Petyr will be sorry to see me go, but I’ll have Abner with me.”
“Gram!” Celestia looked up at her grandmother, who struck a pose upon the back of her horse.
“This makes the most sense, and if we leave now, just Abner and I, we can make it to the manor before midnight.”
“Thieves won’t hesitate to strike you, my lady,” Sir Petyr said in a strained voice. “I will escort you back.”
“No, I won’t allow it,” Celestia said, worried for her grandmother as much as she worried for Nicholas.
“I beg pardon,” Nicholas said firmly, “but I will decide who is going where.”
Celestia stepped back and tried to hide her frustration. Having a husband was inconvenient, if one had to ask to speak first.
“Lady Evianne is needed at the manor. Abner is with her, and can help protect her, if need be.”
“Yes, my lord!” Abner grinned and puffed out his small chest.
“Lady Celestia will stay with the caravan. Or have you forgotten what is at stake?”
Celestia willed herself to think of calming thoughts, white puffy clouds and sunshine dappling through the trees, so that she didn’t yell and behave unseemly.
“Nicholas, what will a few days mean to the baron?” She kept her tone reasonable as she asked the question.
He answered with unnecessary sarcasm, “As if I know? We are pawns, and I will have answers from him. Sooner,” he glowered and Celestia saw just how terrible he could be, “rather than later.”
“I see.” Her voice rose as she tried to make her point. “So you would send my grandmother home alone in the dark to satisfy your need for speedy answers?”
“Must you argue?”
“Yes!” Was he so focused on his own quest that he would send an old lady and a boy on their own through the night forest?
“Stop tapping your toe at me, my lady; the ringing of those damn bells annoys me. If it means so much, Bertram can escort them home.” He arched his brow as if she were being ridiculous.
Folding her hands primly at her waist, she breathed in deeply and said, “Thank you, my lord. That will be much more to my liking.” She was not being difficult!
“It would be my honor to go,” Sir Bertram said gallantly. Celestia saw that the knight had won Abner’s admiration and her spirits lifted, just a little. “If we leave now, I can meet you by tomorrow evening,” he said to Nicholas.
Celestia reached up to kiss her grandmother goodbye, tears blurring her vision. This was all happening so fast. Her grandmother’s company had offered security, and without her, Celestia would be forced to make her way as a wife and mistress of the keep without help. Not to mention that she was now left with many unanswered questions regarding the curse on the Peregrine name.
Five days ago she’d had a vision, and now here she was on a path much different from what she’d planned for her life. Saving Nicholas, being forced to wed, coming to terms with her own dreams and desires, only to realize that she had to give them all up in order to save her family, and even Nicholas. It was all so overwhelming that she could cry. She bowed her head into the horse’s warm side.
She felt the weight of her grandmother’s kiss at the top of her head, like a blessing. “There is no turning back, Celestia. What’s done is done. Make him love you.”
“It is not that simple, for a man to love one such as me.”
“You need to open your heart, ‘Tia. Or how can love find its way inside?”
Chapter
Six
Celestia stared into the flames of the large bonfire before her, squirming a bit on the log she was sitting on. The mouthwatering scent of freshly cooked venison made her stomach rumble and took her mind away from the tight knot of her marriage. Satisfied with her new plan, if she had but the courage to implement it, she tossed the last crust of bread into the fire.
At least her brothers would be safe.
She stood, stretching her back and glancing aroun
d the tiny village. They’d arrived just as dark was falling, and the villagers, who had been warned by Sir Petyr that they’d be coming, had already cleared an area in a vacant field for them. They’d shared their wood, and their water from the communal well. In return, she’d helped a woman in childbirth, and Nicholas, with some of his men, had hunted. The villagers were too poor for fancy weaponry, and seemed in awe of the men’s armor.
Nicholas gifted them with fresh meat.
Her husband. Nicholas. Lord Nicholas Le Blanc. He was fascinating, but unpredictable, and he’d been avoiding their tent all night.
She tried, discreetly, to stretch her legs. The ride had been exhilarating, and a bit tiring—not that she would admit it. Celestia had always made it a point to keep up with her family, even if she had to work twice as hard.
Willy and Sir Geoffrey were laughing over mugs of ale, and she didn’t know any of the others. The villagers had all gone to bed, and Celestia sorely missed the company of her grandmother. Especially since Nicholas was ignoring her.
Gram said that she had to make him love her. She scoffed, walking around their party’s encampment. She lifted a hand to Stephan, Petyr, and Forrester, who were getting supplies from the back of the Montehue wagon, well, not the Montehue wagon anymore. It belonged to Nicholas, who’d stated that he preferred his own surname to that of his father.
Stubborn man, she thought with a surge of unwanted pride. The emotion brought to mind the heat that traveled between them like lightning, and she considered it might be desire; what if she acted upon that?
She was not schooled in the art of seduction. Her nerves bounced up from her belly to her throat at the idea. Nicholas was a handsome man, a worldly knight, who’d likely had scores of lovers. Would he find her innocence tedious?
It galled her to realize that she should have listened more closely to those damn minstrels and their inane tales of love.
Sending a prayer to Saint Agnes, the patron saint of betrothed couples, strengthened her resolve until she remembered, with a laugh, that darling Agnes was the patron saint of chastity, as well.
