The Shielded Heart

by Sharon Schulze

  Expression serious in the flickering firelight, Swen slowly edged Anna’s shift down to her waist, making her breasts ache with the strength of his eyes’ caress alone. She fought the urge to cover herself when she felt her nipples tighten, but he held her spellbound, motionless beneath the weight of his regard.

  “Please,” she whispered when she could bear the torment no longer.

  Swen traced his tongue over the aching peaks, the brush of his breath over them setting her heart racing. “You taste sweeter than wine, my heart,” he whispered, rising on his knees to capture her mouth with his, trailing his tongue over her lips with that same deliberation before plunging it into her mouth.

  He shifted to lie between her legs, his body echoing his mouth’s caress, melting her from within until she thought she’d simply cease to exist if Swen didn’t ease the longing he’d created.

  “Do you want me, my heart?” He dampened his fingertip in her mouth, then traced a path of moisture from her lips to breasts and stomach, finally pausing at the juncture of her thighs.

  “You know I do,” she murmured, mimicking his actions along the hardened length of his body, halting with her hand poised over his manhood. “Do you desire me, husband?” she taunted, though teasing was the last thing she wanted now.

  “Aye, love.” He gave a weak laugh. “As you well know.”

  “Then show me, my love. As I will show you.”

  Anna gasped as Swen’s finger reached the end of its path, the stroke of his hand carrying her closer to completion. She didn’t know what to expect, only that ’twas so near…A pinnacle she didn’t want to reach without Swen.

  She curled her hand about him, amazed at the heat of him, aching all the more to finish what they’d started.

  Her eyes had closed, but she opened them to find him watching her face, a flush riding his cheekbones, his gaze intense, measuring.

  “Now, my heart,” he said, arching back, then joining his body with hers. Anna caught her breath at the sensation that suffused her body.

  Swen gasped, his eyes widening, as he crested the wave of pleasure with her. He pressed his lips against her brow. “Now you are mine.”

  Anna shifted in the bed, her leg encountering Swen’s hair-roughened thigh, jolting her into awareness.

  “Good morrow, wife.” He rolled her onto her back and inched the bedcover down to expose the upper curve of her breasts. “Never have I awakened to a more beautiful day,” he murmured against her lips.

  “Nor have I,” she said, then gasped at the faint brush of his whiskers over the soft flesh he’d revealed.

  He nuzzled his lips in the valley between her breasts, his fingers sliding over her stomach and up her torso to cover her aching flesh. “Swen,” she moaned, and cupped the back of his neck to urge his questing mouth lower.

  He captured her nipple between his teeth, sending shards of renewed sensation through her. She eased her hand down his chest to stroke the corded strength of his stomach, delighting in his sudden gasp.

  He shifted his weight atop her, his manhood a fiery brand against her thigh. She pressed her hand against his hips, urging him closer. “Are you sure, my love? I don’t want to hurt you.”

  Anna brushed a kiss against the smooth flesh of his shoulder. “Yes, husband, I—”

  Pounding at the door interrupted her.

  “Siwardson, wake up! Swen!”

  Swen leapt from the bed and scrambled into his braes. “’Tis Ian.” He hurried to the door and jerked it open. “What—”

  Lord Ian stood there, his gaze fixed upon Swen. “My apologies, but we’ve got trouble. Both of you—come to Lily’s solar as quickly as you can.”

  Swen shut the door and snatched his tunic up off the foot of the bed. “Come, love—I’ll help you,” he said as she struggled to pull her shift over her head one-handed. He slipped into the tunic and grabbed her bliaut and underdress off the floor, staring at the tangled mass in bemusement.

  “Here—I’ve others in this chest, easier to put on.” She held her shift against the front of her; then, realizing how ridiculous such modesty was after the night they’d spent together, she let the garment drop to the floor.

  “Ah, wife, must you tempt me when we’ve no time?” he groaned. He looked away from her and opened the chest, pulling clothes from it and tossing them toward the bed.

  Anna drew an undertunic and gown from the pile and held them out to him. In no time they’d dressed. She raked her fingers through the tangled mass of her hair as they left their chamber, afraid that how they’d spent the night showed on her face as it was. The state of their dress and her hair would only confirm the fact.

  There was no help for it; besides, had she really believed no one would know?

  Swen led the way into Lily’s solar, then halted just inside the room. “James? What’s amiss?” he asked, swiftly crossing to the battered man seated before the fire.

  Ian stood by the man’s chair, pouring wine into his cup. “I’ll go get Rannulf and Nicholas,” he said, setting the pitcher on a table and hastening from the room.

  Anna hurried after Swen when she caught sight of the guard from Murat. He looked battle-stained and weary, scarcely able to sit up in the chair. Fear dogged her heels as she knelt beside his chair.

  He looked up from the cup held clasped in his hands, his eyes shadowed. “’Twas the king’s men, mistress. They came to the village a few days past, hot on the trail of your parents.”

  Anna gasped, reached out her hand to steady herself against the floor. “What are my parents doing at Murat?”

  “They came looking for your brother, mistress. Thought you might have seen him.” He drank from the cup, then sat back with a groan. “Seems the king’s men followed ‘em, hoping to grab them to get to you.” He closed his eyes. “The fight was fearsome, milord,” he told Swen. “We lost a few men in the fields outside the town, then they trapped most of our troops inside the palisade. William bade me come to you if I could get away. Took some doin’, but I got here as fast as I could.”

  Anna’s mind reeled with James’ news. Her parents, in Murat? And the village held hostage?

  For her. Death and pain, always because of her.

  The sun had scarcely cleared the horizon when they set out from Gwal Draig, all the resources at Ian’s command assembled to give them aid. Swen gazed over the sea of men at their leaders—FitzClifford, Talbot, the Dragon—and knew a moment’s pride at his association with such men.

  Not a one had questioned the decision to head for Murat in force, to do whatever necessary to thwart King John’s lackeys. Some might call it treason for FitzClifford and Talbot to lend their aid to this venture, since they owed their fealty to the king. Yet neither man had hesitated for a single moment, instead marshaling his forces behind Ian’s banner.

  Swen glanced at the woman riding beside him. Seeing Anna there sent pride coursing through him, but also fear—that she might come to harm, that mayhap she might consider giving herself up to the king to protect her parents—fear that she’d come to some harm because of her love for him.

  Would it have been better if they’d never wed?

  That question occurred to Swen more than once on the hellish journey through the winter cold. At least the weather held; they’d worried before they set out that they might be caught on the road by a blizzard. But despite the weather’s cooperation, Swen could not rid himself of the feeling that they should move faster, perhaps break their party into smaller groups so that one, at least, might reach Murat the sooner. Eager to do something—anything—it seemed to him that every step they took moved them farther from their destination.

  But if he’d left Anna alone, never wed her, never made her his, would she even now be at court, suffering who knew what indignities at the king’s hands?

  Or would her life still plod along at Murat, with her toiling away at the abbey’s behest, never knowing any other existence but that?

  How could anyone say? For the first time in his
life, he wished for his dreams to visit him during the brief snatches of rest he took, but his dreams told him nothing at all.

  Just before they paused to make camp a fair distance from the familiar forest surrounding Murat, they met another of Murat’s guards, posted as a messenger to carry the king’s demands to Anna. Swen tore open the missive in a rage of impatience to see what it said, then had to pass the letter to Ian when he realized he didn’t understand half of it.

  The king’s man demanded Anna’s return to Murat in exchange for the safety of the villagers. As for her parents, they would be taken to one of the king’s properties separate from her, so that they might stand as surety for her continued good behavior. As Lord Ian pointed out, ’twas fortunate that word of Anna’s defection from the abbey’s control—not to mention her marriage to Swen—had not yet reached the men holding Murat, else they might have simply slaughtered the villagers without delay.

  Lord Rannulf and Lord Nicholas, who knew King John’s uncertain temper, assured them that such actions were not beyond the king—nor his men.

  They needed to know more of the situation. Of the group, Swen and James knew the area the best, so they set off to scout out the situation as soon as they arrived, leaving the others to set up camp.

  Anna awaited their return in a flurry of impatience. The mere fact of Swen’s being out of her sight immobilized her with worry. Though they’d made this journey together, there had been no chance to be together—not just in a physical sense, but they’d scarcely had the opportunity to speak in private. Everyone’s attention had focused on reaching Murat, on assessing the situation there and deciding how best to resolve it.

  A multitude of ideas had cropped up over the course of the journey, but in reality, no one knew the facts.

  Hopefully some plan could be made once Swen and James returned.

  Concern for her parents had plagued her since James’ startling announcement. She had wanted to find them, if she could. She never expected them to come looking for her. They might have done so at any time, these past fifteen years; they’d always known where to find her. That they had never tried to do so haunted her heart still, for according to James, ’twas her brother, run off from the monastery where they’d left him years before that had brought them back into her life.

  But they were her parents. No matter what they’d done, she couldn’t leave them to languish within the king’s grasp as hostages for her.

  And she especially didn’t intend to see the people of Murat pay for her decision to leave her vocation.

  Activity at the other end of the camp caught her attention, and she hurried to find out what had happened.

  Swen came up to her and gathered her into his arms. She felt tears fill her eyes, and she blinked them away, not wanting to appear frail and cowardly. Although none of the men had objected to her accompanying them, she didn’t want them to think her so weak that they couldn’t trust her to do her part to free Murat and her parents.

  “Take heart, my love. From what we could tell, the village is not heavily guarded. And we know that once we get inside, William will do all he can to ease our way from his end.”

  She stepped back from him. “What if William didn’t survive?” she asked, voicing one of her many fears. “We have no way to know how many of our troops are alive—not that anyone would be in a position to help us, I would think.” She drew her cloak more snug about her throat. “Come, sit by the fire and warm yourselves,” she suggested, leading them across the camp.

  She served them food and drink while they outlined what they’d observed for the others. They planned to attack the village in force, trusting that their superior numbers would carry the day.

  Despite the fact that FitzClifford, Lord Ian and Talbot thought the plan would work, she couldn’t help feeling they were doomed to failure. The men intended to use brute strength to achieve their ends, from what she could tell, but she feared ‘twould result in a fearsome loss of life.

  And enough lives had been lost in her cause. She’d have no more of it, could she but find another way.

  She thought she knew a way she could help their cause, but it would require that Swen trust her to see her end of the scheme through. “You know they’ll allow me in—’tis what they want, after all,” she told them. “Once inside, I know a way to arm the villagers that those fools would never think of.”

  “I doubt they’d leave any weapons to hand,” Lord Ian protested.

  Anna smiled. “But would they recognize a weapon if it didn’t look like one?” she asked. Seeing their confusion, she continued. “I doubt they know anything of what I do, or how I do it. If I convince them to let me go to my workshop—to begin my work for the king right away—I’ll have access to all sorts of sharp, deadly tools. All I need do is ask for my assistants to come to help me.”

  Swen shook his head. “How many helpers have you—four? It’s not enough.”

  “Leave it to me to convince them I require more assistance than that,” she said. “And if we time it properly, you’ll attack from without, demanding most of their men to defend the palisade while I’ll do what I can to arm the villagers from within.”

  Lord Nicholas smiled. “It would be a help, certainly. And if the villagers know that we’re outside, ready to do what we can to free them…That might make the difference, Siwardson.”

  After much discussion, Swen agreed to Anna’s plan. He could see the advantage to it; in the end he’d been forced to admit that the main drawback as far as he was concerned was the threat to Anna.

  He took her aside before she set out for Murat, holding her tightly in his arms, unable to resist giving voice to his objections one last time.

  “Your hand—what will you do if they realize you cannot use it?” He cradled it within his own much larger palm, his heart aching at the sight of the livid scars marring her silken flesh. She’d removed the bandage, but ’twas too soon to use it; the slightest movement sent shards of pain coursing up her arm.

  She could understand his concerns, but she had fears of her own. “If we don’t resolve this now, my love, ‘twill hang over us for who knows how long. If we can free my parents and the villagers, find someplace safe to send them, beyond the king’s reach, then perhaps we’ll be free to begin a life of our own as well.”

  “I’m sure that among our friends, we could find places aplenty for the villagers,” he said. “As for your parents—’tis up to them, but they’d be safe in Bergen with my parents. Even if they don’t respond to the letter I sent them, I doubt they’d refuse to help their daughter by marriage and her family.”

  ’Twas strange to consider that she was now a part of Swen’s family, and he a part of hers as well.

  “We cannot delay any longer,” she said, clinging to Swen and trying to hide her fear.

  “I cannot bear to let you go.” He pressed his face against her throat with the same desperation she felt inside. “I wish I’d dreamed of this,” he muttered. “Then I might know what—”

  She pressed her hand against his lips. “Hush, love,” she said. “We’re both through with dreams. Trust that I’ll come back to you,” she whispered. “And I’ll trust that you will protect me as you promised.”

  ’Twas a simple matter for Anna to enter Murat, for the guards admitted her immediately. She adopted an arrogant demeanor, demanding to see their leader at once. In no time they led her to William’s house and up to Bess’ solar. The village appeared deserted—no one in the street, no faces in the windows as she passed through the village guarded by two well-armed men.

  Had they locked everyone away? If they had, her workshop was the only place large enough for so many people.

  Assuming there were many people left, she thought with a sinking heart.

  She was grateful that her heavy cloak hid her shaking knees, and even more thankful to find that the man had drafted Bess to wait upon him. Bess appeared to be hard at work preparing something at the hearth; of William, she saw no sign.

>   Lord Marcus de Leon wore fine clothing and appeared to be no warrior. Save for the eating dagger on his belt he wore no weapons, and he scarce appeared a threat.

  She couldn’t help wondering how he’d taken the village.

  “’Tis good of you to obey my summons so quickly, mistress,” he said in a smooth voice. “We’ll be able to leave for court at once, perhaps on the morrow, if these lazy servants of yours can be coaxed to work.”

  Bess sent him a glare harsh enough to peel the flesh from his bones; fortunately, he didn’t notice it since he was busy inspecting his fingernails. “’Tis a wonder you’ve survived safely for so long, for they put up very little fight when I came here.” He buffed his nails against his tunic. “Of course, the fact that I carried the king’s writ might have something to do with it. At least they were wise enough not to call the king’s wrath down upon them.”

  “I understand my parents are here,” Anna said, trying to infuse her voice with an indifference far from her true feelings on the matter.

  He nodded. “Yes, they’re in your workshop, I believe, locked up with that hothead, de Coucy. Too dangerous to have him roaming about,” he added. “He’s been nothing but trouble from the start—killing too many of my men, keeping far too close a watch over you,” he said, his gaze suddenly sharp upon her. “Clever of me to draw that Norseman away from here, was it not? Of course ‘tis true the king wants you badly, but I didn’t have any luck here at all until I presented your guards with the real truth of the matter.”

  Anna felt as though her heart had ceased to beat. This effeminate fool had been behind the attacks? Could it be that the message sending for her had been naught but a lure to draw her here, then meet Swen’s attack with a superior one of his own?

  She would have doubted that her parents were here, save for the fact that James had seen them.

  Or had he?

  She tensed at the sudden clamor of sound, loud even through the closed shutters.

  “To arms!” someone cried. “Milord, we’re under attack!”