by Wood, Lynn
Melissa lifted her head slightly off Luke’s chest and looked suspiciously around the dark cavity for some sign of the old woman. Luke, always so akin to her slightest move, slept soundly on. Melissa wondered if her mysterious companion had placed some kind of spell over him. Or perhaps this is what it felt like to be dead. If so, Melissa was glad to be free of the searing pain in her limbs and the dazed confusion of her thoughts, but then she wondered where the old woman was keeping herself? How was she supposed to find her way alone to the life awaiting her beyond this one?
She stared fondly down into Luke’s slumbering face, smiling at the boyish innocence she guessed made its appearance only in repose. Her eyes took in every detail from the dark, curling hair so like her own, to the sculpted planes of his face and jaw, to the lips that had caressed her flesh so intimately the night before. She shouldn’t linger too long. The last thing she wished to do was to cause him embarrassment. She dreaded the prospect of witnessing the regret she knew must spring to his eyes when he realized she was still alive…if she was, that is…alive.
Whether she was or she wasn’t, she could not remain where she was much longer. Her promise to Luke the night before weighed heavily on her conscience. She knew if he woke to find her awake and apparently recovering, he would feel honor bound to send one of his men into the nearest village in search of a priest to perform a more formal marriage ceremony. No, she could not allow him to make such a sacrifice, particularly now that he had ascended to the position of his father’s heir.
With new regret, she gently disengaged herself from the circle of Luke’s restraining arms. His family ring he placed on her finger as a symbol of their brief marriage of sorts slid off her hand and dropped to the cave floor. It had been a loose fit around her slender finger, just as the bonds of their temporary marriage were a slack fit, and easily severed. She bent to retrieve the heavy gold signet and placed it next to Luke’s head where his eyes would fall upon it as soon as he opened them. A last longing look and she turned away from the direction of her heart’s urging. Her true life awaited her beyond the entrance of the cave she moved silently towards, detouring to retrieve her dagger where it rested against the wall. Outside the weak light of the dying fire was giving way to the more certain light of approaching dawn. For a moment, Melissa stared regretfully back in Luke’s direction. She could no longer see his face, but she could sense him. They were bound now. Not the same bond she shared with Michel, but a bond no less born of love. Freedom would be her gift to him. She would honor her vow. Luke would not be stuck with her. Alone again, she set off into the lingering night.
Chapter Ten
Luke fought against the return to consciousness. Even dreaming he dreaded facing the unpleasant truth he knew awaited him in the light of a new day. Memories from the previous night danced through the reality he was intent on holding at bay a little while longer and merged with his dreams. Recollections of a woman’s softness beneath him, her heat surrounding him, clinging to him, her breathless cries pleading with him to come to her. Even before he woke, his mind acknowledged his very real memories of making love with Melissa surpassed any fantasy his imagination was capable of conjuring.
Clinging to denial a while longer, his arms tightened around the woman who slept so still, so peacefully against his chest even as his mind rebelled against the inevitable conclusion behind the reason for her stillness. It was an endless sleep the woman he found too late would never awaken from. His hope tried to convince him she stirred against him, but he recognized his longing for what it was…a futile rejection of the painful truth. Melissa would stir no more.
Luke had experienced enough death on the field of battle to recognize its portent. Else he never would have dishonored her the way he did last night. In his mind she was his wife. If time allowed he would have summoned a priest to bless their union, but even as he gave consideration to doing just that he feared a man of the cloth would be unable to reach them in time to do any more than administer the church’s final sacrament upon its faithful daughter.
In his mind, his hand smoothed the tangles from the silky curls of his lover’s beautiful hair. He did not relish the prospect of carrying the news of her death along with her frail body back to her sister, Lady Rhiann, who awaited with dread the very word he would be forced to deliver. Even as his mind rebelled against the unpleasant duty awaiting him another more pressing circumstance presented itself for his consideration. He pushed aside the clinging tendrils of sleep and realized he could no longer feel Melissa’s weight pressing against him. His hands could not find purchase in her tangled, silken curls that danced across his bare arms and chest during the night as if they had a life of their own. His confusion finally outweighed his reluctance to face the truth of his lover’s death and he forced his lids open, then gazed stunned at the sight of his empty arms.
Astonishment chased his puzzled thoughts through his head in useless speculation. Had Melissa crawled away from the comfort of his arms during the night so he wouldn’t be forced to wake in the morning holding her dead body? He sighed with regret at the thought, concluding his fiercely independent lover was capable of doing exactly that, thinking not of her own comfort, but of him, even at the end. To his way of thinking the core of strength within her was more male than female, but what else would he expect from a woman who was trained by her twin brother in the arts of a Salusian warrior? Was her sense of honor not equal to any knight of his acquaintance? Did she not make a point of asking him to retrieve his family ring from her finger when she died?
As if the mere thought conjured the object of his concentration, the uneven light from the entrance caught a glint of the gold of his family ring that lay just inches from his head. The recognition forced him to shake off his stiffness from a night spent on the unforgiving stone floor. He sat up and recovered his ring and slid it back on his finger. Shaking off his grief, he gathered himself for the unpleasant search he must now embark upon. He guessed he would not have far to travel before he found his lover in some corner either here in the cave or not far from its entrance. It tore at his heart to think of his beautiful yet ever mysterious companion of the past few weeks breathing her last alone, away from the relief from her fears he knew he provided her. He supposed he could take solace in that, knowing he brought her comfort and pleasure on her last night on earth, cold and empty as such consolation seemed to him now when he was forced to confront the depth of his own loss.
After scanning the deepest corners of the cavern, he exited their retreat into the light of a fresh dawn. Most of his men were already gathered around the fire preparing a meal from what was left of their meager supplies, supplemented with what meat they managed to catch in the surrounding forest. They looked up as they saw him standing at the entrance, but he signaled for them to remain seated and continue with their preparations for the morning meal. His eyes lingered on the precipice where his brother met his death. His mind instinctively rebelled at the thought of finding Melissa’s broken body on the very same ledge, but he acknowledged he would have to check just the same. It seemed to him a cruel end to follow her attacker in death, but knowing Melissa as well as he now did, he could envision her taking such a bold course. She would appreciate the certainty of it, the knowing it would be over in a matter of seconds.
They both understood they were exchanging their final farewells last night. It would be awkward for each of them if rather than departing this world Melissa lingered, languishing, her fiery spirit sputtering out until it was slowly transformed into cold ash. No, Melissa would choose the sureness of a quick death, and senseless as it seemed, she would wish to avoid inflicting any additional discomfort upon him her lingering would bring about. Surprised at how easily she read him, he acknowledged she knew him as well as he knew her. She understood if she remained alive for much longer, he would insist on finding a priest and making their marriage official. There would be no whispers about his lack of honor among his men. Or at least no more than there already were.
He was not his brother.
Shaking off his unpleasant ruminations, he reluctantly forced his long stride to carry him to the edge of the cliff, and drawing a bracing breath, he peered over the side. The same breath was released in cleansing relief when he saw no evidence of Melissa having followed his brother’s end. Then where was she? Their camp was not large and it was surrounded closely by dense forest. Would she have sought refuge there? Unlikely. Had she not chosen the small shelter the cave offered in the first place to avoid becoming prey to one of the predators lurking in the forest? But he was in the cave. Perhaps in the end she was unable to fling herself off the edge of the precipice and compromised by seeking out a soft place to rest her head among the roots of some ancient tree.
He glanced around, eyeing other likely possibilities and noticed Rafe watching him from where he sat with the others around the fire. He met his friend’s questioning glance with a quick shake of his head, and then turned towards the forest to continue his search, concluding there was no other place Melissa could have gone.
After combing the area for the better part of an hour, he returned to the camp where his men covertly observed him through hooded glances, no doubt wondering about his strange behavior. Rafe rose from his place around the fire and carried a pouch of water and a hunk of game to where Luke stood apart, his eyes still scanning the surrounding area for any sign of the direction Melissa might have taken. Luke accepted his offerings gratefully from his extended hands and took a long pull of the cool water.
“Looking for something?” Rafe wondered out loud.
A resigned sigh accompanied by a frustrated sweep of his hand at the growing mystery of his former patient’s disappearance, and Luke admitted reluctantly, “Not something. Someone. She’s gone.”
Rafe’s brow furrowed in confusion. “You mean she’s dead?” he clarified.
“Perhaps. But what I meant is she’s gone. She’s not in the cave.”
“Where did she go?”
Luke sent him an impatient look. “If I knew that I would not have spent the past hour searching for her.”
“But where could she have gone?”
Even recognizing Rafe’s confusion matched his own, Luke couldn’t suppress his impatient grunt at his friend’s question.
“Right, if you knew that you would not have spent the past hour searching for her.”
“She couldn’t have gotten far. She was dying, Rafe. I think she left because…”
Luke met his friend’s sympathetic glance and knew he understood. It had always been that way between them. They understood each other’s moods, thoughts, dreams, dreads without being told, without pulling them out into the open and having a long involved discussion about every little detail the way women were inclined to do. At least every woman he had ever met besides Melissa. From the very first she understood him. At least ever since they’d gotten over her initial misconception that he was his demon brother resurrected from hell.
He couldn’t ever remember laughing with a woman the way he had with Melissa, sharing so much intimacy so quickly. He recognized her mortal condition served to lower the normal constraints society imposed upon a single man and an unwed lady, but it was more than that, she was more than that. To attribute everything that happened between them to her illness would be an insult to them both.
“We could cover more ground on horseback,” Rafe suggested, interrupting his distracted thoughts.
“She wasn’t strong enough to get far.”
“The horses will sense her, particularly yours.”
Luke considered his friend’s point. Rafe was right. Luke rode a Salusian stallion. Melissa was the rightful keeper of the Salusian stone. Crazy as the idea sounded it was worth a try. They turned as one in the direction of where the horses were grazing. Luke scanned the small group in search of his prized chestnut, but saw no sign of him. He wasn’t too concerned. Asis had a tendency to wander, as if there were concerns of his own for him to see to separate from Luke’s demands on his time. Luke didn’t mind. His stallion always returned to his side when called. He’d proven a trusted friend in battle. Luke would be loath to be forced to rely on another mount beneath him. He whistled for Asis, expecting to hear an answering whinny accompanied by the sound of thundering hooves racing towards him. When he heard neither, his glance raked the surrounding hills, knowing Asis would not find room to run in the thick growth of the forest. Luke whistled again. Nothing. A suspicion was taking hold over him, but he quickly dismissed it. She was too ill, too weak to mount his horse. Besides, why would she run from him? She trusted him. They were friends.
His rationalization sounded weak to his ears. Why should she trust him? He was her enemy. His comrades killed her family, stole her home. His brother brutally assaulted her. She tricked him!
Luke reigned in hard on the dark direction his thoughts were wont to lead him down. He rationalized his foolish suspicions away as the unreasonable conclusions they would no doubt prove to be. No woman would sacrifice her precious virginity to an enemy knight for the scant chance she would be able to distract him long enough to escape his clutches.
She seduced him! Even as he fought against his growing rage and the ridiculousness of his conclusion, he whistled again, calling loudly now his mount’s Salusian name. How would Melissa know he rode a Salusian mount? Because he’d confided as much to her in an effort to gain her trust. What else had he told her? Where the hell was she anyway?
“She was dying goddamn it!”
Luke didn’t realize he’d given voice to his growing frustration until Rafe’s quiet agreement reached him. “She couldn’t have gotten far, Luke. I saw her myself. Her injuries, her fever, were mortal.”
Luke nodded, calmed by his friend’s assessment in accord with his own. They took two horses and spent most of a frustrating day trying to pick up some evidence of either his stallion, or Melissa’s trail. After finding neither, Luke reluctantly acknowledged Melissa was skilled enough to disguise any evidence of her direction. She would have followed the stream, kept to the only source of fresh water in the vicinity. ‘That he knew of,’ he tacked on with increasing frustration. Melissa grew up in the area. She was far more familiar with the surrounding countryside than he and his men were.
He thought it very possible Asis could lead her to a Salusian patrol. The conviction growing in him, he could barely control the fresh rage filling him. She not only tricked him, the deceitful woman stole his horse. And made a fool of him in front of his men. How she must have laughed at his tender words, how he insisted she commit herself to him even if only for the single night they would share together, so he would not dishonor her.
Well, he supposed she was entitled to her revenge and he couldn’t condemn her for it after his brother’s vicious assault. He could even admire her fierce will to survive by any means available to her, fair or foul. He realized it wasn’t Melissa he was angry with, or not only Melissa. It was for his own gullibility he reserved the brunt of his fury for allowing a mere woman to best him and make him look like a love-struck idiot in the process. He nodded his head in a mock salute to his clever opponent, and swore silently their battle was not over yet. She may have won the opening round, but the contest continued, whether she knew it or not. Swallowing the bitter pill of rare defeat, particularly at the hands of a woman, Luke turned to where Rafe rode silently by his side.
“We’re heading back. We’ll deliver my brother’s body to his men’s keeping. Hopefully the repairs to the ship have been completed and they can sail the ship to London. We’ll meet up with them there. At the very least I must pay my respects to the king, and bring Lady Rhiann word of her sister, if such news has not already reached her from another source by the time we arrive.”
Aware of Luke’s dark mood, Rafe suggested cautiously, “Luke, anything could have happened to her. Just because we haven’t found any sign of Lady Melissa or your horse doesn’t mean she was faking the extent of her illness so she could escape. Think, Luke. It doesn’
t make any sense. She trusted you. You’re her sister’s husband’s good friend. She would know you would take her to Lady Rhiann. I don’t doubt she somehow connected with Asis, but I think it’s far more likely she died in the wilderness than that she deliberately ran off with your mount.”
“Then where is Asis? Why hasn’t he returned?” Luke dragged his hand through his long hair in an exasperated gesture.
“Would he leave her?”
Luke paused in his self-righteous fury long enough to consider his friend’s point. It was a valid one, he admitted reluctantly, still unwilling to abandon his own, rather humbling conclusions. He had no way of knowing if a Salusian stallion would abandon the keeper of the Salusian stone, even in death. His familiarity with the tribal legends was limited. What Rafe suggested was a very real possibility.
After due consideration, he decided it was more likely Asis managed to lead Melissa to a Salusian scout and she was even now being tended to by her grandmother’s people. When she left Heaven’s Crest, Melissa’s primary aim was to escape the Norman siege of her home and return to her Salusian roots. Even in her weakened condition, and in spite of all that passed between them, her intent never changed. She chose her future and she made certain he understood he was not a part of it.
No, her precious Michel would always mean more to her than any other man, even her husband, if there was ever a man unfortunate enough to be saddled with Lady Melissa for a wife. He should count himself fortunate their marriage lasted only the length of a single night and he received in return more than just compensation for the service he rendered her.
He wondered if that’s the way she viewed their night together… as recompense for his care of her. Yes, he thought Melissa was capable of reaching just such a ridiculous conclusion. Her pride equaled his own. She considered herself a warrior. She would feel honor bound to repay him for his efforts on her behalf. Since he couldn’t imagine her ever parting with Michel’s precious dagger, she offered him the only other thing of value she possessed…her precious virginity. She probably concluded its loss was no great sacrifice. Since she had no intention of ever wedding, her lack of purity would prove to be one more impediment to any man fool enough to attempt to force a marriage upon her.
