Believing Your Eyes - A Medieval Romance (The Sword of Glastonbury Series Book 3)

by Lisa Shea

  Her whispered guidance had been clear and succinct; the best he had received despite a day of discussions with many other experienced soldiers.

  Her keen awareness of Ian’s ego had been clearly on display with her intervention after the second hit. He could see in her posture and gaze that she was acting for his benefit, not her own.

  And then, while all other spectators had paid scant attention to the actual fighting, it had been her perceptive eyes that had saved him from an injury …

  There was not time to speak of any of that; he would be missed shortly. There was no time for the many other things he longed to share with her. Instead, he simply held her gaze for a long minute without speaking and hoped she could read his thoughts in his eyes.

  She took a step toward him, moving out of the shadows. He drew in a sharp breath when he saw the three cuts which slashed along her cheek bone, dried blood showing up bright against her pale skin. Against his firm resolve, he reached out and gently touched the side of her face with his fingertips in the softest of caresses. Her eyes battled with conflicting emotions before she leant, ever so slightly, into his hand.

  His breath came rough and ragged. He knew that he had tempted fate for long enough.

  “Thank you … for everything,” he rasped quietly, his voice thick with emotion. Then, with a herculean effort, he lowered his hand and retreated back down the stairs toward the celebration.

  * * *

  Lucia’s breath caught. She remained frozen in place and stared at the empty spot where Stephen had stood. Giving herself a shake, she half walked, half ran back to her room. She bolted her door, wanting to be sure she was left alone.

  She stood for a minute at the door, her hand on the bolt, almost unwilling to leave it shut - but she forced herself to turn. She dropped into the chair by the window and stared out at the stars, fighting with every ounce of her strength to remain in place, to keep herself apart from the man she knew she loved.

  One more day.

  Chapter 10

  Lucia finished the stitchery around the cloak’s collar, relieved that she had finished the gift in time. Matthew had given her a clean bill of health earlier that morning. Her daily rides had done their work of rebuilding her strength. She would head out first thing tomorrow morning.

  One more afternoon with Stephen. And then it would be over.

  Around her, the women chattered in low voices, but the chair by her side was empty. As the minutes slipped past, Lucia’s brow drew in curiosity. Just where had Anna gone to?

  There were light footsteps in the hall, and she smiled. She looked up – but to her surprise Anna’s gaze was shadowed with doubt. Lucia put down her sewing as her friend settled into the seat next to her.

  “Anna, what is wrong?” she asked with concern.

  A maid came over with a goblet of wine, and Anna drank down a sip before answering. “I spent the morning talking with Stephen,” she explained in a low voice. “With the Gray conflict coming so close to this keep, I thought we might push up our wedding date, so I could get settled in our household further south, more distant from the danger.”

  Lucia’s heart thundered in her chest, and she focused on her breath. She pushed down the wild flurry of panic which seemed to overtake her. She turned to the small table to her right, took up her own wine, and downed half the glass in one swallow. It was a long moment before she could turn back to the conversation.

  “I can understand your wanting to be safe,” she offered, hoping her tone was neutral. “What did Stephen say?”

  Anna shook her head as if she could still not take in the response. “He said … he plans …” She drew her eyes up to stare at her friend. “He is still obsessed with his lands to the north,” she finally choked out. “He has no intention of living further south!”

  Lucia’s heart swelled with respect for Stephen, and it was all she could do to hold her features even, to maintain a tone of commiseration in her voice. “I imagine you want to retreat to the keep further from the conflict.”

  Anna’s voice was bright with exasperation. “Of course I do!” she burst out. “Any sane person would! Why would I want to remain here, with the fighting nigh on our doorstep? What kind of insanity is that?”

  She took another long draw of her wine. “It is bad enough that he lives in that ruined wasteland with Marcus and that other friend of his. I admire his rambunctious spirit as a bachelor. But soon he will be married to me! He needs to settle down. Somewhere safe, somewhere far from harm.”

  She shook her head in bafflement. “I had our future all neatly planned out. What is Stephen thinking? How can we have costume balls and harvest festivals in lands that the Grays are burning to the ground?”

  Lucia bit her tongue, took in a long breath, and released it again. She was Anna’s friend and should support her in her goals. “Anna, I am sure this will work out somehow. Maybe Stephen will change his mind once he is married. Maybe once he is a husband and not a single man, he will feel the responsibilities involved and want to settle down.” She patted Anna tenderly on the arm.

  Anna looked doubtful, but she picked up her embroidery, stabbing the needle through the cloth with steady motion.

  Lucia turned back to her own sewing, a turmoil of thoughts swirling through her. She doubted that any ring or vow could ever change the character of a person. Stephen was a man of honor. His desire to cleanse his homeland of the Grays would not vanish solely because a wife was at his side. If anything, he would crave a wife who cherished the same goals …

  She pushed the thought out of her mind and focused on the cloak beneath her, then the roast goose presented for lunch, then the steady gait of her horse as she rode out toward the clearing.

  She settled against the willow tree, gazing down the trickling stream, hollowness swelling in her chest. What would she have done if she had been in his place? Would she have come back from the woods docilely and meekly? Would she have consented to a marriage her father had arranged? Could she let her father down, after all he had done for her, if this is what he truly had asked of her? Would she instead desert her potential husband, and all she loved, in a selfish desire to be free?

  The morning’s drizzle had faded into a cloudy afternoon, and the cloak beneath her kept the wet grass from soaking her. The swollen stream carried melting snow and leaves downstream, a reminder that spring was fast approaching. She threw a twig into the water and watched as it swirled away out of sight.

  Tomorrow she would be departing, vanishing herself.

  Part of her prayed that Stephen would become a distant memory. Perhaps distance would ease the intense longing which twined deep within her.

  But she knew. With every breath of life within her, with every drop of her blood, she knew that Stephen’s voice would always echo within her thoughts. The steadiness of his eyes had become a visceral presence in her soul. He had become her foundation, and her roots had dug too deep to ever be ripped free.

  The gentle rhythm of hoofbeat eased into hearing, and soon Stephen had entered the clearing. She nodded her greeting to him and took in the tight draw in his shoulders, the furrows in his brow. She held her tongue while Stephen dismounted and tied Prince alongside her horse. He sat a short distance from her, looking out into the distance in a distracted manner.

  Lucia could not stand his silence, not on their last day together. At last she asked, “Is there something bothering you?”

  Stephen remained quiet, his gaze shadowed.

  “Perhaps I can lend a fresh view,” she added, softly. “As a friend of Anna’s ...”

  Stephen kept his eyes on the forest and hesitated for a long minute. “It is about Anna that I am troubled,” he finally stated, his voice low and tense.

  Lucia waited, unsure she wanted to hear what was to come. It was hard enough to keep herself apart from Stephen without having to hear his confessions of feelings for another.

  Stephen went on, the words rushing out as if they had been a long-dammed torrent. “
It is the marriage,” he admitted in a growl. “You know Anna; you know her dreams. She has built a fantasy image that I must now fit - to please her, to please my foster father. I have sworn to do the best that I could, to be a good husband to her. She deserves that. She -”

  He stopped abruptly, hesitating to say more. Instead he dug up a small rock with one hand and tossed the stone into the river, watching the ripples it created.

  After a moment, he tried again, still looking out at the water. “When Anna first met me, it was easy to see she had developed a crush on me. She was young then, not even a teenager, and I admit that I thought it a passing fancy. I had other things on my mind. Later, as she grew older, I suppose that her feelings matured. Truthfully, I did not realize this until Lord Edmund spoke to me, just how far they had grown. By then -”

  Stephen went quiet again, lost in thought. Lucia tried to imagine what that scene must have been like, how Stephen must have felt when presented with that request from the man to whom he owed so much.

  Stephen spoke softly, looking down at his hands. “In any case, I consented to be her husband. At the time, I thought that having a wife at home would be something I would ... well ... manage.” His voice echoed with frustration and confusion. “Now she talks more and more of a passive life, of staying home, holding parties, and arranging dances.” His voice rose slightly. “I do not have time for dances. I am scrambling for the hours to train our troops, to build our defenses against the Grays. When we are done here, my sole task will be to wrest my family’s lands from the usurpers. Then it will be a constant struggle to defend them!”

  Stephen threw another stone at the water, this time more forcefully, where it made a large splash. He took a deep breath, then gazed out across the water, lost in thought.

  Lucia found it hard to answer in a way that did not betray her own feelings. She held her tongue, her emotions in turmoil.

  Stephen continued under his breath, half to himself, “I was not made for elegant delicacy any more than she was made for passionate causes.”

  Lucia glanced over at Stephen, surprised by this raw comment. Looking up, Stephen quickly spoke to cover his unintentional words. “Anna is sensitive and caring,” he avowed in haste. “She is a wonderful woman.”

  He took in a deep breath as he slowly shook his head. “Even so, she just does not have the thirst for life, the need for action, that I have.” His eyes met Lucia’s, and he looked caught, almost lost. The words seemed to slip out.

  “That we both have.”

  Lucia found herself immersed in his stare, ensnared by the depth and open honesty in his eyes. He was only a few feet from her, and she felt as if she could reach out and touch him. Her mind echoed loudly, ‘Yes.’ The word rolled around in her thoughts, growing louder. ‘Yes, Yes, Yes.’ The attraction flowed through her as a powerful stream, over washing anything else.

  It was suddenly quiet, so quiet, and all that she knew was that Stephen understood her, that she understood him.

  An inner voice cried out to her to draw back, and yet she couldn’t stop the flowing river of emotion that had swept her up. There was so much they had not yet talked about, so much more she wanted to learn about him.

  Stephen’s face ached with pain and confusion, and she gave in.

  She drew down her walls and finally allowed her eyes to shine with the full depths of her emotions. An answering passion flared into life in his own smoky gaze, and she smiled. The knowledge that he shared her feelings filled her with immense joy. She accepted with resolution that the knowledge alone would have to be enough. She saw this same awareness in the look and posture of the man before her.

  Stephen was engaged to Anna. Lucia’s feelings for Stephen, and Stephen’s for Lucia, although almost overpowering, were secondary to their honor. Lucia let herself be absorbed by the emotion of the moment, knowing that it could never come again. She would leave tomorrow, and she would turn her back on the man that she loved with all her heart.

  In the potent silence, the crack of a twig sounded loudly. Stephen and Lucia were on their feet instantly, their swords drawn from their sheaths in one sibilant hiss. They stood side by side, facing the path.

  At the edge of the clearing stood six burly Gray mercenaries, chuckling to themselves at the easy prey they had found. Lucia berated herself for not noticing their approach. How could she have let herself get carried away? Where were the horses?

  By now the six intruders had sized up their opponents. Lucia could see in their eyes what they thought they had found. A hapless pair of lovers, simple enough to kill for the fine horses they rode and the weapons in their hands.

  A husky one winked at his companion. “This should be easy,” he commented as they confidently closed in.

  Lucia had been in situations like this before, and knew they had to act quickly. Experience taught her that their best hope was to take the Grays by surprise and break their morale. She hoped Stephen felt the same way, but couldn’t spare a glance in his direction. She singled out a weak-looking, smaller one, and with a loud yell, swung her sword and went straight for his throat.

  A shout by Stephen at the same moment made her grin even as pandemonium broke out about them. The man in her grasp shrieked, terrified, as she brought her sword across his body and quickly dispatched him. There was a strong hand grabbing her sword arm, and she snagged the knife in her boot with her other hand, slashing the attacker in the face. He screamed in pain, and before he could clear his vision he, too, was also dead.

  Only a few moments had passed, and she now stood facing one bearded enemy who was far less certain of himself than a few moments earlier. She had kept her back to Stephen, and found that he had done the same with her. Sparing a glance behind her, she saw with grim pleasure that Stephen had also killed two Grays, and was now facing a single opponent. Lucia wondered if there were any more around. Thinking quickly, she relaxed her guard, lowering the sword and knife she now held in each hand. “That was not very hard,” she called over to Stephen. “We managed to leave two of them alive. Lucky that they did not get a chance to send a scout back. We can drag these two in for questioning without the Grays being any wiser.”

  The Gray took the bait. She saw the dismissive look on his face as he looked down at her and leered at her slender form. His chest puffed out with pride and arrogance as he looked over at the second, a sneer on his face. “I told you we should follow protocol,” he snarled nastily to his companion. “Lucky for you I agreed to let him go back before we attacked. Now we finish these pups off.”

  “Damn!” muttered Lucia, rotating her sword’s hilt for a better grip. She didn’t relish the idea of chasing a Gray scout through the woods. She had no time to ponder her options, though. With a sudden move, her opponent dove at her, swinging his sword down toward her head. He proved to be a better fighter than the previous two, and she deflected the blow with her sword while she tried to find an opening with the knife. She realized quickly that her strength was fading. Her wounds had healed for the most part, but she was still not quite up to full strength. She was grateful to have Stephen behind her, where she could hear him struggling with his opponent. If she’d been caught alone ... at least now she only had one front to deal with.

  Lucia’s enemy saw her slowing and pressed the attack. Lucia took advantage of this. She feigned an injury in her side and turned suddenly to the left as if in pain. The Gray took the bait and slashed toward her apparent weakness. Recovering quickly, Lucia brought her dagger in sharply, driving it into his chest. The Gray’s eyes widened in surprise, and he staggered backwards. He went down heavily and grew still.

  The wind huffed out of her; she dropped hard to one knee, breathing deeply. She realized that the clearing was now silent. A worried thought flashed across her brain, but Stephen was beside her in a moment.

  His voice was taut with concern. “Are you hurt?”

  She glanced up at him, automatically scanning him for wounds. He appeared to have a small cut on his arm,
but the blood was not flowing heavily.

  Lucia then looked down and examined herself quickly for injuries. Her ribs ached, and her sword arm was throbbing. Beyond a few bruises, she had a shallow, raking gash along her left leg that was bleeding slowly.

  She ripped off the hem of her cloak to tie around the wound. “No more than you,” she assured him as she finished the binding. Standing, she glanced at the woods. “There is another one out there, though, ready to call for reinforcements,” she reminded him.

  “I will find the horses,” he called, running down toward the edge of the clearing. Lucia wiped her sword off on one of the fallen attacker’s clothing, and recalled the argument she’d had with Stephen about the Grays. Could she really consider herself a lover of life, given the death she had just caused?

  She quickly justified the situation to herself - this had been self-defense. The mercenaries had brought the fight to them, intending to kill them. These were not men she could have reasoned with, tried to negotiate a peace. It had been her only choice.

  Stephen was back beside her in a few moments. “It looks like someone has taken them.” He glanced quickly between Lucia and the forest beyond her, his face reflecting his worry. “I have to stop that scout, but I cannot leave you alone. Other mercenaries may be nearby.”

  Lucia did not hesitate for a second. “I promise I will keep up with you,” she vowed with heat, “I will be far safer by your side than alone here.”

  Stephen held her eyes for a moment, then nodded quickly. “We will have to go on foot for now. Let me warn the town that the enemy is near, though.” He pulled a small horn from his belt and blew strongly. A loud blare sounded clearly through the forest and echoed for a few seconds. Stephen looped the horn back on his belt. “That should get us some help.”

  He glanced again at her wounded leg, then the shadowed path ahead. His voice was tight with concern. “Stay with me.”

  She slid her sword into her scabbard, then rolled her shoulders. “I swear it.” She would run until she dropped, rather than let the scout go free.