Love's Call

by C. A. Szarek

  “What about you, big man?” The lass ran her fingertips down Roduch’s chest.

  The blond knight shook his head and pushed her hand away.

  “Awww,” she pouted, her full lips pulling down. “I was curious to see if you were big all over.” She winked.

  Dallon growled, and the girl giggled as he cupped her face and covered her mouth in a kiss that projected possession.

  She kissed him back eagerly.

  How much of it was for show on her part? Did she want Dallon or his coin?

  The lass moaned into the knight’s mouth, and Leargan tore his eyes away.

  “I am all the man you need,” his friend said.

  Lucan shifted in his chair, obviously uncomfortable, so Leargan threw an arm around the lad’s shoulders, giving him a squeeze. The young mage relaxed but averted his gaze from the display.

  “Then it is time to show me,” the barmaid told Dallon.

  The knight scooped her up and stood. The girl wrapped her arms around his neck, planting another kiss on him. Dallon headed for the stairs, not breaking the lip lock or even pausing as he ascended with her in his arms.

  Roduch shook his head. “I hope my room does not back up to his.”

  Leargan nodded and leaned back in his chair.

  Guess I won’t be bunking with Dallon as planned.

  Merrick laughed loudly—too loudly—and downed the last of the ale in his mug before slamming it down on the table.

  Laith shot his brother an amused look, but said nothing.

  “Laith, why don’t you help your brother find his bed? Lucan, you too. We’re off at dawn, and it’s late,” Leargan said.

  As he spoke, the lad yawned and nodded, scrambling to his feet and smiling. “Night Leargan, Sir Roduch,” Lucan said, inclining his head.

  “Not a bad idea, Captain. C’mon, brother.” Laith grabbed Merrick’s arm and hauled his older brother to his feet, throwing an arm around his shoulders when Merrick swayed.

  “Good night, lads,” Roduch said, giving their brothers and Lucan a wave.

  Leargan echoed the sentiment and watched the knights stumble to the stairwell. Lucan stepped forward, slipping his slim arm around Merrick’s waist to assist Laith with his brother.

  “He’s a good lad,” Roduch said.

  “Aye, he is.”

  Their eyes met and silence descended, contradicting the noisy tavern. Leargan had always liked Roduch for his quiescence, but his friend was much too intuitive. Instinct told him what the big knight would say before he spoke.

  “I’m sure when we get back things will be righted between you two.”

  “I can only hope,” Leargan whispered.

  Why did you say that?

  He didn’t want to talk about Ansley.

  “As I hope things will go well for you and Avril.” He needed the focus off him and the love of his life.

  The look his friend gave him shouted Leargan had missed the mark, but Roduch inclined his head. The big knight was nothing if not polite. “Aye, I hope the same.”

  “You love her.” Had Leargan lost all control of his mind and his mouth?

  Was he a woman?

  Love was the last thing he wanted to talk about.

  “Aye,” Roduch said simply, smile sliding into a grin. It made him look younger, despite the two sevendays’ worth of blond fuzz on his normally clean-shaven face.

  “She’s been through so much. It’s going to be a long road,” Leargan said. “But, you’re one of the most patient men I know. You’ll stay by her side and provide what she needs like you do when you train the lads.”

  Roduch chuckled. “Love is very different than training youngsters to fight, but thank you, Captain. I appreciate your faith in me.”

  One corner of Leargan’s mouth lifted.

  Was love really all that different from fighting?

  Silence fell again, the sounds around them amplifying as he tried not to think about Ansley and all that had happened between them.

  “My visions of Avril...it’s hard to believe I have no magic.”

  “I know, considering your so-called magic saved us so many times, I’m having a hard time with it, as well.” Leargan met his friend’s pale eyes.

  Roduch’s expression was serious. “In my visions—or whatever they were—she was laughing, more carefree and happy than I’ve seen her now. And she loved me.” He sucked in a breath, his large chest heaving. “That hurts…like a physical pain in my chest…”

  “Why?”

  “Why did I have to meet her now? After she had to endure what that bastard did to her? Why couldn’t I know her before? Why him? I could’ve been the one her father gave her to. I could have kept her from it…I could have kept that expression, that light, from being wiped from her face. What if she can’t smile like that again? Never laugh, like she did in my visions? What if he killed that in her?” Roduch’s expression was wrought with pain, fair brow drawn tight.

  Leargan had never seen his friend like this. The big warrior was always calm, steady, like a rock. Even when they were lads, Roduch never fell apart.

  He gripped the knight’s forearm and squeezed. “How do you know your visions weren’t from when she’s healed? Not that I’d ever wish those horrors on anyone, least of all a beautiful girl one of my brothers is in love with, but what if you are the reason she smiled and laughed? What if you are the key to that light returning? You’ll heal her, my friend. It’s already starting.”

  “I rescued her,” Roduch muttered.

  “Aye, but that’s not the reason she won’t stray from your side. She shines when she looks at you. You’re just what she needs…and she’s just what you need.”

  Roduch smiled.

  His heart ached with envy as he stared at his friend. Lucky bastard. “Roduch?” Leargan croaked.

  “Aye?” Pale blue eyes searched his face.

  “When we get home, tell her how you feel. Hold her and kiss her. When she’s ready, wed her.”

  Roduch grinned again, and nodded curtly, as if Leargan had issued an order. The big man leaned in, gripping his forearm and squeezing. “Captain?”

  “Aye?”

  “You do the same.”

  Leargan groaned, trying not to think about Ansley.

  He failed miserably.

  Chapter Thirty-seven

  Why for the Blessed Spirit’s sake had she agreed to accompany everyone to greet the men?

  Ansley didn’t want to see Leargan.

  Liar.

  All right, so she did want to see him, but she wouldn’t talk to him. She waited for her conscience to contradict her. It didn’t, but her chest tightened, heart missing a beat.

  Ansley stood stiffly next to Cera and Aimil, ignoring how her father’s head was bent low as he spoke to Jorrin, Tristan and the king.

  Plotting.

  That was all her father was doing lately.

  She wished he would just go back to Terraquist.

  Of course, Sir Murdoch was as stubborn as Ansley. When she managed to broach the subject, he would just assert he wasn’t done in Greenwald yet. Sometimes he’d even mutter something about a wedding. If she threatened to leave on her own, her father would shake his head. He hadn’t gone as far as using the word forbid, but he did tell her Sir Moray, her captain and leader of the King’s Riders, was under instructions to not have her back.

  Damn her father’s meddling.

  However, it wasn’t like she could continue being a Senior Rider with ease, anyway. Her pregnancy would be showing in a few months, and she couldn’t safely go on a long hard ride and not jeopardize her baby.

  Ansley had spoken to the truth to Cera; she wanted Leargan’s child.

  His name bounced around in her mind, pain roiling along with it in her gut.

  What am I going to do?

  She’d thought long and hard about Cera’s words. It wasn’t fair or right to keep Leargan’s child from him. But Ansley needed him to love her. She wouldn’t marry him because she w
as carrying his baby.

  Refused to be a duty fulfilled. That hadn’t changed.

  Her eyes swept the courtyard and she pushed the hurt from her mind.

  Avril stood not far from the gate, a visible ball of excitement. The girl was as close to the roadway as safely possible, her anticipation of Roduch’s advent obvious.

  At least Avril’s man would be happy to see her.

  Ansley sighed, swallowing against the lump in her throat.

  “They’re coming!” Avril jumped up and down, clapping her hands.

  Cera giggled and waved, tugging on Ansley’s arm. “C’mon, she’s adorable. Don’t tell me you can’t smile?”

  One corner of Ansley’s mouth lifted, and she glanced at Avril before meeting the duchess’s gray eyes. “Aye, she’s adorable. Happy to see the man she loves.”

  “As you should be,” Cera admonished.

  Ansley averted her gaze, inadvertently meeting Aimil’s dark eyes. Her diminutive friend flashed an encouraging smile.

  “There will be a feast tonight; the king practically took over my kitchens to arrange it. Perfect opportunity to speak to Leargan,” Cera said, rocking back on her heels, her expression nonchalant.

  Avril made a squealing noise, and Ansley used it as the perfect opportunity to ignore the other redhead, eyes landing on the younger girl, who was clad in a shiny pale blue dress. The same gown she’d worn to the feast the night the king, her father, and his men had arrived. It made her look even more radiant.

  The girl launched herself at Roduch, who barely had time to catch her up in his arms after dismounting a large blue roan stallion.

  Dark curls loose and flying around her shoulders, Avril initiated a kiss the large blond knight had no problem continuing.

  Breathing hurt, and Ansley had to look away from them. They looked happy.

  Didn’t that just make it worse?

  Unfortunately her eyes landed on Fia, Leargan’s unusually colored buckskin mare.

  Don’t look at him. Just…don’t…

  But she couldn’t help it.

  Leargan was still in the saddle, sitting low and exuding fatigue. Haggard. Shoulders slumped, a full beard on his normally clean-shaven face.

  Ansley wanted to go to him. Touch his cheeks, kiss his lips. Have his arms around her. Greet him with the same enthusiasm Avril had Roduch.

  Gluing her feet to the ground, Ansley buried her hand in the thick fur of Ali’s neck when her bondmate appeared at her side and whined. She blinked away tears, watching as the king, her father and her friends’ husbands surrounded the man she loved as he dismounted.

  Pats on the back and vigorous handshakes were exchanged, but he still didn’t look her way.

  Serves you right, a voice chided, but it didn’t lessen the pain. Ansley bit her bottom lip when it wobbled.

  Cera reached for her free hand and entwined their fingers, but thank the Blessed Spirit, the duchess stayed silent.

  ****

  He saw her in his peripheral vision, standing with his ladies and her black wolf. Leargan couldn’t look at her. Not after the show Avril and Roduch were putting on.

  Ansley had made no move to come to him. She hadn’t even waved to try to get his attention.

  His heart sank to his stomach.

  Nothing’s changed.

  He’d thought of nothing but her on the long ride back—especially after the talk Leargan had had with Roduch at the Rusty Nail.

  Well, his friend wasn’t going to have any problems with his follow-through, if that kiss was any indication.

  “Leargan?” King Nathal asked.

  The concern in his foster father’s tone told him it wasn’t the first time his name had been called.

  “I’m sorry, what was that?” Leargan met the king’s pale eyes.

  “Are you hungry, lad? Morag has laid a fine repast,” Sir Murdoch said.

  Leargan had to look away from the teal eyes that matched the love of his life. His gaze landed on Jorrin, whose expression was tight, pained.

  Damn empathic magic.

  Squaring his shoulders, Leargan took a breath. “Honestly, what I want most is a bath and a blade, to shave this roughness from my face.”

  “And I was going to say you looked dignified.” Jorrin grinned.

  King Nathal chuckled, and both Sir Murdoch and Tristan grinned.

  “No thank you. I will leave the beards to my elders.” Leargan winked.

  The king gave a large bark of laughter and hit his shoulder good-naturedly.

  Ansley’s father grumbled, but wore a smile.

  How he’d managed the lighthearted joke was a mystery because it belied Leargan’s thoughts and feelings, but it was good to be home.

  Home.

  The thought jolted him. Greenwald was home.

  It’d only been about a turn, but the Province had replaced Terraquist, the place and people working their way into his heart.

  Jorrin and Tristan were as close to him as Niall and Alasdair, and even Roduch. He’d gained two more brothers.

  Too bad Ansley was included in his view of home.

  He should’ve gone to her as soon as they’d ridden into the courtyard, instead of leaving the first—failed—move up to her.

  Leargan missed her so much. If he would’ve wrapped her in his arms, would she have shoved him away in a courtyard full of people?

  Knowing his stubborn love, probably.

  He wanted to kiss her, but at the moment just holding her would have been enough. “Well, I shall meet you all in the great hall. I think I’ll be better company clean. Especially before stepping foot in the castle, anyway.” He cleared his throat, trying to smile. “Morag is no fan of dust and mud, and I’m no fan of getting fussed at by our headwoman.”

  King Nathal grinned and clapped him on the back so hard he almost fell over. “Aye. Off with you then, my lad. See you in a while.”

  Leargan headed to the public baths without a backwards glance.

  If he looked at her, he would be even more lost to Ansley than he already was.

  Chapter Thirty-eight

  Roduch ran his fingers through his hair, liking its shorter length. Now it rested at the base of his neck, closer to his scalp.

  After a bath, Morag had cut it for him, even though she’d fussed at him the whole time. Told him he’d better marry that lass, because the headwoman wasn’t going to stand by his impropriety any longer.

  Grinning, he shook his head and rubbed his jaw, skimming his fingertips along his newly clean-shaven face. He’d gotten as close as he could with a fine blade. Roduch didn’t want to abrade Avril’s soft skin when he saw her in a bit.

  Now that he was cleaned up, he was going to head to her rooms and see if she would dine with him at the personal guard’s table in the great hall, or if she would prefer a more private affair as they’d grown accustomed to. Either would be fine with him, even though the king and Lady Cera had a feast planned.

  Roduch just wanted to be with her.

  She’d kissed him. In a public setting. Without a care for the presence of Castle Aldern’s residents.

  His heart leapt. As soon as she was ready, she would be his. Morag didn’t have to worry about that.

  A tentative knock on his door had him glancing over his shoulder.

  “Roduch?” Even through the thick wood, the voice was unmistakable.

  Avril.

  What was she doing at his door? He’d never brought her to his small room in the soldier wing of Castle Aldern. As a matter of fact, women were scarce in this part of the castle. A maid or two occasionally, but they had two male staff members assigned to see to their needs.

  Morag wouldn’t allow her maids in the area with single males unsupervised. Unless it was during the day, and the men were out. Married knights, like Padraig and Niall, lived in a different part of Castle Aldern.

  Most of the men-at-arms didn’t live on site, but there were rooms designated for their use when necessary.

  Eyes grazing hi
s rustic oversized furnishings, Roduch’s stomach fluttered. He was surrounded by what he needed.

  Nothing fancy.

  Masculine and sparse, his furniture was all dark wood and large.

  A desk and chair, bed, big chest at the end of it, and one other chair by the window. Much different than Avril’s lavish guest room.

  He didn’t even have an armoire to hang garments.

  “Are you in there? Sir Lucan told me this was your room.”

  Her voice jolted him and Roduch rushed to the door, wrenching it open.

  Their eyes locked and Avril smiled up at him.

  The smile from his visions. Open and honestly happy. Avril exuded joy, her cheeks pink and her riot of curls loose and dancing around her shoulders.

  Perhaps his captain was right; Roduch was helping her heal.

  She’d changed into a dark green gown that made her emerald eyes shine. Her small breasts were pushed up by the corset.

  Roduch wanted to growl. No other man would be permitted to look there. His hands itched to touch her, hold her, continue the kiss she’d planted on him in the courtyard.

  Avril was so gorgeous it took his breath away.

  “Are you going to invite me in?”

  He suppressed the urge to jump and made himself nod. His voice deserted him.

  When she slipped past him, he managed to close the door behind her, only to watch her peruse his room in silence, running her small hands over his things. Avril stared at the oversized bed large enough for his six foot five inch frame, her cheeks reddening.

  Roduch needed to say something—anything—but seeing her among his things was so enchanting, words dissolved before they were born.

  Avril in his quarters was right.

  He couldn’t tear his eyes away.

  “I like your room very much. It’s so…you,” she said, turning to him with another brilliant smile.

  Avril stopped in front of him, close enough to touch, but too far away for Roduch’s liking.

  He took a step toward her. “Thank…you.” Roduch needed to touch her. After a fortnight of being gone, the small amount of time she’d spent in his arms outside in the courtyard wasn’t nearly enough.

  Avril beat him to it, as if she’d read his mind. She reached up, laying her palm flat against his cheek. “You shaved. And, cut your hair.”