The Protector

by Madeline Hunter

  He moved up, bringing her legs with him. Lifting them over his shoulders, he rose on extended arms and entered her with hard thrusts, slowly at first and then more fiercely, until finally his strength threatened to move her whole body before him. She closed her eyes to savor the power, and her own passion rose again to meet his and tense toward that deeper, different release that she had learned about this night.

  In her delirium, her body thrashed out of control. She grasped at him frantically, screaming into the timeless, airless oblivion where he had taken her. If not for the tremendous force of his body claiming her, she would have lost awareness of reality completely.

  They made love all night. Over and over, during fierce hours of long joinings and brief separations, they both buried the emotions born in the battle. She never stopped him, no matter what he did. There was no real submission in her obedience, only new pleasures and satisfactions that soothed primitive parts of her soul.

  Finally, as the first light of dawn replaced that of the guttering candles, they lay side by side, bodies entwined.

  “Do you sleep?” she whispered.

  “If you will finally permit it.”

  “Oh.”

  He laughed and shook his head. “Hell, woman, you are insatiable. I recall Ascanio once telling me that you would match me in this as all else. Prophetic, although this isn't quite what he had in mind.”

  “Go to sleep. Dawn breaks. I could go ride a horse now.”

  He laughed again, and pulled her up and held her shoulders above him. Her breasts grazed his chest, tantalizing her. “Seduce me,” he said. “I can probably show some patience now. And then you can ride me instead of a horse.”

  CHAPTER 23

  ANNA SAT ON A STOOL BY the solar hearth, smoothing Morvan's favorite red pourpoint over her lap. While their night of passion had subdued their battle, she had hardly given up the struggle. Eventually some form of compromise would be his only choice.

  She held up the pourpoint and eyed it critically. He had worn this the day that he sealed their bargain at David's house. The color brought attention to his eyes, and he looked magnificent in it. She remembered the effect well, and the disadvantage his appearance had put her in that morning. Aye, this garment had a lot to answer for.

  Morvan looked up from the table, where he was working with a quill. “What are you doing?”

  “Woman's work.” She flattened the sleeve on her lap and tilted her head back to imagine what she would do to it. “Gold, don't you think?”

  “Gold?”

  “Thread. Very visible and rich. Good contrast.”

  “I have always liked it as it is.”

  “Your garments are much too plain for a lord. What will people think if I let you go about thus? Gold it will be.”

  “I find that I prefer plain garments. I was impressed by David's. The total lack of adornment is very appealing and distinctive.”

  “David is a merchant.”

  “Still, I would keep a few items thus. Like that pour-point.”

  “Are you implying that you do not want me to care for your things? That you do not trust my womanly skills?”

  He laughed. “I am saying that I would prefer that you didn't ruin my favorite garments, Anna. Have a little mercy.”

  He came over and lifted her up, drawing her to his chair and settling her on his lap. He never seemed to notice that she was really too big to sit like that. “How did you manage to become the worst needlewoman in Brittany?”

  “I avoided it whenever possible. One just sits for hours counting threads, plying a needle. It was enough to drive me mad. So I made it a point to never do it well. Even at the abbey they soon found other work for me.”

  “What kind of work?”

  “Not ladies' work, I'm afraid. I tended the garden. I helped in the infirmary. Sometimes I even scrubbed floors.”

  “You fought off brigands.”

  The mood suddenly changed. The air in the room seemed to thin.

  “That too, once.”

  His smile was gone and a thoughtful expression had taken its place. A strange stillness came from him.

  “You were happy there.”

  “Contented.”

  “You are not contented now.”

  An odd feeling stirred in her. Almost a foreboding. His sudden seriousness unsettled her.

  “Nor could I be there anymore,” she said.

  His gaze fell to her arm, where his fingers were gently stroking her. He studied the patterns that he made on her sleeve.

  “Do you know that you have never asked me for anything? One time you asked for advice about Gurwant. Other than that, nothing. For as long as we have known each other.”

  “I asked you to marry me. It is not a small thing.”

  “The benefit was more mine than yours.”

  “You argued otherwise very well, as I remember.” She laughed, hoping to lighten the mood.

  “I told you once that men are weak, and most generous, when most pleased. Yet after we make love you ask for nothing.”

  “Is that what you expect? Is it common for wives to do this? Lie with their husbands, and then ask for things? Besides, what would I ask of you? Jewels? A new gown?”

  “After I have been with you, you could ask for anything. Everything.”

  She suspected she knew what he was offering, what he was telling her. It frightened her, and she kept silent, hoping to end this conversation.

  It was not to be.

  “When I was with Baldwin, I visited your property at Rennes,” he said. “The castellan is a good man. With some more men-at-arms, it would be well protected, and Baldwin is not that far away. I would come if ever you needed me.”

  “Are you saying that you want to send me away?”

  “I am saying that I would let you leave. I never thought that I would, but I cannot see us like this forever. I do not like the anger, Anna, or your unhappiness. At Rennes you could live the life that you had here. I would ask that you not endanger yourself, but if you did at least I would not see it.”

  She looked away, stunned. He had been waiting for her to ask for this. He had already known his answer. But why bring it up now? Had their talk of Saint Meen opened a door that he felt compelled to walk through? Or had he tired of her already?

  “And if I do not ask for this?”

  “Then I would have you be my wife in all ways. No more bargain. No more games.”

  She had been negotiating for a compromise. Instead, he was now giving her an ultimatum. He was actually doing it. He was asking her to choose between him and herself.

  She sensed the emotions in him and knew that he fully expected her to take this gift. Everything, all that she had demanded when they first spoke of marriage, waited a few words away. She pictured herself at Rennes, managing the property, riding as she wished, using her judgment and even her weapons. Independent. Free. Separate.

  She wondered if he expected her to make a decision right now. She dreaded that he might force her to.

  There came a scratch on the door. Josce stuck his head in. “A messenger has come from Sir Haarold.”

  “It is very late. He must have ridden all day,” Morvan said. “Bring him here.”

  Anna slipped off her perch and returned to her stool.

  “Does Sir Haarold have trouble?” Morvan asked when the man arrived. Anna knew that he worried about Gurwant's family still, even though they had agreed to the ransom.

  “Nay, my lord. But we received your warning about the thieves, and I was sent to tell you that we have caught one.”

  “You are sure?”

  “Aye. Found him with three of the horses. One was a palfrey. Sir Haarold recognized the saddle as the workmanship done here. And he recognized the man as once being in your service. It be a young guard named Louis.”

  “Does he know of the others?”

  “He says only that the others are still nearby and that he will tell all he knows, but to Lady Anna and no one else. Sir Haaro
ld wants to know if the lady will come, or if he should just hang the boy.”

  “Go and find some food. I will decide by morning.”

  When he had left, Morvan gazed thoughtfully at the fire. “It appears that you were wrong about him, Anna.”

  “So it seems. But I would hear about it from him. And if he can lead you to the others … They still know the way to the farm. It will never be safe again while they are at large.”

  “Only because the boy betrayed your trust in the first place.”

  “I am aware of that.”

  “You know that no matter what he says now, he will hang.”

  She knew that.

  “I will go, but you will not,” Morvan said. “I will take a few men with me and borrow Haarold's to search out Louis's friends. When I come back, I will bring Gurwant. It is time to fetch him anyway.”

  “Louis said he would speak only with me.”

  “Then he hangs without speaking. You do not go.”

  He came to her, and lifted her into his arms. “If I do it this way, Gurwant will be here for a week or so before the ransom comes after Easter. Can you bear having him here? If not, say so and I will go back for him later.”

  It seemed that a lifetime had passed since she had faced that blond giant after the battle. She realized that she no longer feared him. The reason stood in front of her, his fingers resting gently on her cheek.

  “Bring him. But I will not be in the yard to greet you when you return. I told him that we would not meet again.”

  He drew her back to the chair. She let him hold her, but she did not think about poor Louis, or even Gurwant. She calculated how long she had before she had to make a choice.

  Morvan left the next day, accompanied by Haarold's messenger and four other men. It wasn't clear how long he would be gone. Even if Louis did not lead him to the other thieves, he intended to find them. Under any circumstance, however, he told Anna to expect him by the beginning of Holy Week.

  His offer weighed heavily on her mind as the days stretched on without him. She tried to imagine her life both ways, looking for some reaction inside her heart that would tell her what she really wanted. Sometimes she hated him for forcing such a choice on her. She had never asked him to decide between her and anything.

  Her little games of rebellion lost their appeal, and she spent one afternoon putting the looms and stools in the weaving room back where they belonged. The cooks had never obeyed her, so she had nothing to rearrange there. She decided that her rooftop garden would stay, however. She had grown fond of the idea.

  By the Friday before Palm Sunday she knew what her decision would be. The choice carried some sadness, for she knew well what she saved for herself, and what she gave up. She felt neither happiness nor triumph in the decision when it came, but she found a contentment in simply having made the choice at last.

  On Palm Sunday itself, the Sunday before Easter, she was disappointed that Morvan had not returned. She paced the time away, waiting for him, anticipating him. Even the thought that Gurwant would come with him could not impinge on her building expectation. She wanted very badly to make love with him one last time before she told him her decision and things changed forever.

  When Tuesday passed and he had not come home, worry replaced anticipation. By the afternoon of Maundy Thursday, she knew that something had gone very wrong.

  Morvan stood and stretched and turned his face to the dim light seeping through the high small window. He ran his hand over his beard, and was grateful that his senses had long ago dulled to the fetid smells that filled this damp chamber.

  Ten days. The bastard had kept him here ten days now. But it was Maundy Thursday, and Anna would finally know there was trouble. He prayed that she would not come herself to discover what had happened. Gurwant counted on her doing so. Morvan counted on her being too smart to walk into the trap.

  He himself had not been that smart, but then he had never anticipated Haarold's betrayal. Only when he rode into this castle's yard had he known that something was amiss. He had been greeted with the honor befitting an overlord, but there had been too many men in the bailey and they had been too carefully positioned. He had drawn his sword instinctively, without thinking of the costs. When it was over, and they dragged him into the keep's hall, two of his men lay dead.

  The sight in the hall had explained everything. There at the high table, taking their evening meal, sat Haarold and Gervaise and young Paul. With them, in the honored position beside Haarold, lounged the cold-eyed man who was supposed to be a prisoner in close confinement here.

  “Where is your wife, Englishman?” Gurwant asked. “She surprises me. I was sure that she would come to speak with her young guard to find out what had happened.” He tapped the table thoughtfully. “Perhaps she follows you, as she did with the horses. Aye, I know that she was there. She does not accept the will of a man forced on her by a foreign king, does she? She is Breton, and does not accept an English lord.”

  “She does not follow,” Morvan said. He turned his gaze to Haarold. “You break oaths of fealty easily, Haarold. I did not expect it of the man who was the right arm of Roald de Leon.”

  Haarold's frown deepened. “Roald would never have accepted you, and I do not. Nor does she.”

  “You know that is not true, that Anna de Leon would have no man against her will. What has this man promised you to make such dishonor worthwhile? Has he said that he will give her to your son when I am gone? That your bloodline will become the new lords?”

  “It is a match that Roald would have approved.”

  “You are a fool. Look at him. Do you really think that he goes through all of this trouble to put your son in the lord's chair?”

  He turned to Gurwant. “Do what you will, Gurwant, but you have lost. Your family will not lend you an army to besiege La Roche de Roald. Your attempts to enforce a spurious betrothal were one thing. This is another.”

  “If she comes to me, I will not have to lay any sieges. If you are dead, we are back where we were.”

  Surprise flashed on Haarold's face as the old vassal realized that Gurwant had been lying to him. But there would be no help from him now, Morvan knew, even with him knowing he had been duped.

  “She will not come.”

  “You are so sure, Englishman?”

  “I am sure.”

  He wasn't the least bit sure, of course. It would be just like Anna to borrow some knight's tunic, sling on her bow, and come searching for him. She would never suspect her father's trusted vassal of betrayal, and might well ride into that bailey with a handful of men, just as he himself had done.

  The light through the small window grew stronger, and the other bodies in the chamber became visible. His two men huddled in their sleep along one wall. Morvan turned his attention to the last figure, lying on a pallet under the window.

  He and his two men had been brought here after his meeting with Gurwant and Haarold. It was a rude cellar dungeon, the kind that men could die in.

  They had found young Louis already in the cellar. He had been beaten badly, and fever from his wounds racked his body. Examining him, Morvan had seen the twisted, misshapen right hand. Louis had been tortured, and every finger broken.

  Requests for Lady Gervaise to aid the boy finally bore results. Three days later she had slipped in, carrying salves and potions. From her fear and quick work, Morvan guessed that neither her husband nor Gurwant knew that she had come.

  She did not stay long, but Morvan learned from her how Gurwant had ingratiated himself. He had impressed Haarold by speaking often of the need for Breton independence. When the message came announcing Anna's marriage, Haarold had been furious, and Gurwant had played on it. By the time Haarold left for the wedding, an alliance had been formed.

  Louis stirred, and Morvan brought him some water and helped him up, propping his shoulders against the wall. The youth appeared alert and finally able to talk.

  “I am sorry, my lord. It is my fault that you ar
e here. Finally, the pain was too much.”

  “No man withstands these things long. How did you get here?”

  “Three of them were waiting when I came through the trees to the path. They had been waiting for days, I think, for someone to come back alone from the farm. They'd been looking for the route for some time, and not succeeded. So they took me.”

  Morvan thought of the extra tracks he had seen the day he went for Anna. “Who were they?”

  “Haarold's men. New men he has recruited these last months. They brought me here, and it was clear that Haarold had thrown in with Gurwant. They wanted me to tell them how to get to the farm. I think that they sought to steal the horses, and then take you when you came searching for them.”

  Morvan looked down at Louis's crippled hand. The youth grimaced. “Aye, it was that what did it. The beating I could take. After a while you don't hardly feel it anymore, and I figured I'd die and that would be that. Then Gurwant found a new pain, didn't he? Still, I kept worrying about the lady. I knew that she went there still, and might be there when they came. But in the end I told them.”

  Morvan touched his shoulder. “When this is over, you will always have a place with us.”

  Louis glanced at his hand. “I won't be much use, my lord.”

  “There is always a use for a loyal man.”

  Morvan slowly paced the small confines of the cell. By tonight she would know for sure. He closed his eyes and tried to find some connection with her, but she was too far away. Still, he focused his thoughts on her and willed with all of his soul that she not come.

  For Gurwant was right. If he had her, and Morvan was dead, they would be back where they had started.

  On the day of the Resurrection, guards came and bound his hands with rope. They slipped a noose around his neck and led him out into the light.

  No gallows waited. Instead they took him into the keep. Servants were preparing the hall for the Easter feast, and he was brought through the large room to a door at one end. The lord's solar flanked the hall, as it had at La Roche de Roald before the upper level was built.