Vengeance 03 - Believe In Me (4 page)

With a
groan, she sank onto the ledge. A fine sheen of sweat marked her face along with a streak of dirt. Her large brown eyes begged him to understand. “Please let me go.”

“I cannot.
Come down.”

She closed her eyes for a
long moment as he released her ankle to take her hand. Muttering, she made her way down, accepting his help when necessary, and soon they stood on the ground again. He gave her a leg up on his horse then got on behind her.

“Twice now you’ve tried to escape
since we left the convent. Surely you know by now ’tis futile,” he said. If only she’d admit defeat, he could relax, perhaps get some rest. His shoulder ached to the bone, much as it had when he’d first received his injury. It seemed the woman meant to injure him permanently.

She scoffed.
“How could I have known you’d follow me up there? In chain mail no less?” Her shoulders slumped at her failed attempt. “You are unbelievable.”

He
shook his head. “Me? Nay, dear lady. You are the one who defies good sense.”

As best he could manage while holding the reins
with her sharing his saddle, he shifted his shoulder, hoping to ease the growing pain. He clenched his teeth as it protested the movement.

He would never have guessed that such physical stamina would be needed to escort one lady to
the bishop. If so, he wouldn’t have taken the assignment.

“Is something amiss?”
She frowned at him over her shoulder, and he attempted to smooth his expression.

“Nay.
All is well.” If she knew of his disadvantage, she’d be gone in an instant. He couldn’t let her discover his injury. As determined as she was, he wouldn’t put it past her to strike him there and run.

“Are you certain?
You appear a bit flushed,” she said as she turned around to better examine his face.

He did feel a little warm.
“I’m fine. If I’m red in the face, it’s because I’ve been chasing after you.”

She shrugged
then settled back into the saddle. He nearly groaned as her bottom moved against him. “You should’ve taken my offer yesterday at the fair to pretend as though you hadn’t seen me.”

With a deep breath, he gave up the argument.
In truth, she was right. He should’ve walked away when he had the chance. Lady Cristiana had her own version of logic, and his energy was wasted arguing with her.

Yet even as he tried to convince himself to keep his distance, h
er flowery scent wafted toward him. He couldn’t help but breathe it in again. Was it the soap she used or merely her? He bent forward to sniff her loosened braid.

Her head snapped around, her brown eyes flashing.
“What are you doing?”

Caught off guard, he could only blink, trying desperately to think of something to say.
“Your hair tickled my nose.”

Those eyes narrowed suspiciously.
“Truly? It seemed as though you smelled me.”

He frowned, mustering his outrage.
“Why would I do such a thing?”

Apparently she could think of no reason
as she faced forward again. “Will we be eating soon?” She rubbed her stomach.

He released
a breath of relief, unable to believe this woman’s affect on him. “Aye. The same fare we had for the mid-day meal. Assuming you left some of it for the rest of us.”

She moaned in dismay
, the sound reverberating through him down to his toes, causing a different sort of ache along the way. “I cannot possibly eat that again. Tell me you’re jesting.”

“I wish I were, my lady.
I wish I were.”

This was going to be the longest journey of his life.

***

Cristiana
evened out her breath as best she could to feign sleep. She well knew the knight beside her had not yet found slumber, for he stirred restlessly.

Simple tents had been set up by the time she and William had returned to camp.
Sister Mawde had been unhappy to hear that Cristiana would be sharing a tent with William. When he told her why Cristiana could not be trusted, Sister Mawde had directed her displeasure at Cristiana. All seemed tired from the journey and soon settled in for the night.

The
tent they shared had the end tied back to allow the heat from the fire to warm the small area. She lay on her side, trying not to move. The cold, hard ground bit into her hip and shoulder despite the fur beneath her. Another fur covered her, and though she couldn’t find a comfortable position, at least she was warm.

She rolled onto her back and
resisted the urge to peek at the man who lay next to her. He’d acted strangely since they’d returned to camp. As they ate the simple meal of hard cheese, dried meat, and bread, he’d spoken little, letting Henry carry the weight of conversation.

She supposed he was still angry over her attempts to escape.
Well, when he awoke in the morning to find her gone, he’d be livid. Luckily, she wouldn’t be there to witness his rage.

“I can only guess at what brings that smile to your lips, my lady.
” His softly whispered words made her shiver. “I know you’ll deny it, but I can see thoughts of escape continue to fill your mind.”

Cristiana
sobered, dismayed that he’d read her so easily.

Rising
up on his elbow, he shook his head. “I don’t pretend to understand your reluctance to see the bishop, but let me explain this. The forest at night is the last place you should be alone. Think twice before you plan to leave my protection as I am the only thing standing between you and the dangers that lay out there.”

“I fear you are wrong, sir.
You have no idea of the danger I face if you succeed in delivering me to the bishop.” Since Abbess Catherine had seen the need to tell him of her gift, she worried that he wanted to use her gift of healing. Even the priest in their small village had tried to use her at times. She could only guess what the bishop would do.

Far worse were her fears of him if he
’d had anything to do with her mother’s death. She would need to tread cautiously else he might do away with her as well.

Neither alternative was palatable.

William frowned. “How dangerous can he be? He’s a bishop, a man of God.”

“
From what I know, Bishop Duval is concerned only with increasing his power, not saving souls.” Those had been her mother’s words along with her warnings to stay far away from him.

Silence met her response.
Not the calm, accepting sort of silence, but the wall that meant understanding was far away. She should be used to this. All her life, she’d met resistance. Few understood her. In fact, most feared her and her gift.

Long moments passed before at last
he said, “Many find him to be a blessing. They say the lives of the people in Longsbury are much improved by his actions.”

“
And others do not. My mother bid me to stay away from Bishop Duval. Instead, I’m being delivered to his door.” She felt the weight of William’s gaze on her as he tried to read her expression in the dim firelight. She gave in and looked at the knight, hoping he could see her sincerity. Her fear.

His brown eyes turned gold in the flames, his expression filled with
compassion. He leaned closer and her breath caught in her throat. A lock of hair fell over his forehead, begging for her touch. His eyelashes, unbelievably long and full, framed his eyes. The memory of him kissing her in the woods earlier that day flooded her, and she could only hope that he saw her earnestness and not her desire. The longer he studied her, the harder it became to breathe.

“
You have my sympathy for the loss of your mother. But I would ask you to consider my situation.”

“
How so?” she asked, puzzled by his words.

He gave her a rueful smile, and once again, the angel was gone.
“I have given my word to deliver you to the bishop. I must keep it.”

“But
—”

William placed a finger
against her lips. “You have nothing to fear from him. No more of your arguments this night. I am tired and so are you.”

How did he
understand her so well when they’d known each other such a short time? In truth, she was weary from her attempts to flee. Perhaps she’d be better off resting for a time before she made good her escape.

He removed his finger and
, with a smile, pulled a rope from behind him.

“What do you intend to do with that?” she asked,
dread spiraling through her belly.

“I intend to make certain you’re here come morn.”
He grasped her ankle and with quick efficient movements, bound her to him.

“That’s hardly necessary,” she protested as she eyed
the short expanse of rope that separated them. This complicated her plan considerably.

William
gave her a tight smile. “Oh, but I disagree, my lady. This will ensure we both sleep this night.”

She scowled at him, but he ignored her and
lay back down, settling on the ground. Within moments, his breathing evened out into sleep.

Her frustration fell to s
adness which lodged in a lump in her throat. Why had nothing gone as she’d planned since this man had entered her life?

No matter.

She wouldn’t let him or his little bit of rope stop her. Once she rested, she’d try again. And again. And again if necessary.

Resigned
for the moment, she closed her eyes and let exhaustion take her.

A tug on her ankle lifted Cristiana out of her slumber. Disoriented, she reached down to remove the restriction, only to remember the rope. She opened her eyes to see what the knight was doing that had awakened her.

He lay
sleeping on his back, shifting as though uncomfortable. She gave the rope a jerk of her own, hoping to lift him from his restless dream, but to no affect. Instead, a low moan passed his lips, and again he stirred.

She rose up on her elbow, but could see little in the darkness.
The coals of the fire still glowed outside the tent, so she stretched over to reach a piece of wood stacked nearby and tossed it on the embers, her aim true. The wood caught flame and slowly lit the area.

William moved again, his profile
in stark relief against the darkness of the tent. Though she might disagree with him, she couldn’t help but admire his determination to honor his vow to the bishop.

When he
moaned yet again, she realized something was wrong. The redness of his face was not just from the glow of the fire. He was flushed. Did he have a fever?

She reached out to touch his
skin, but halted, her hand a hair’s breadth from his cheek. If he was ill, here was her chance to escape. He was certainly in no condition to follow. Fate had presented her with this chance.

She’d be crazed not to take it.

Her trembling fingers sought the thick knot that bound her to him. She spent several long moments doing her best to untie it, but to no avail. With grim determination, she studied the knight’s attire. Surely he carried a knife of some sort.

With her stomach burning, s
he hesitated only a heartbeat before patting his waist, then each of his thighs, keeping a wary eye on him as she searched. At last she found what she sought tucked into the top of his boot. The blade was sharp but cutting the rope took more effort than she’d expected. She glanced uneasily at William’s sleeping form as she worked.

He opened his eyes and stared blankly at the
tent above him. She paused, holding her breath, her heart pumping. A long moment passed before his eyes closed. She released the breath, her heart still racing as she resumed sawing on the stubborn rope. At last her bond with the knight was broken. She rose to her knees, still watching William, filled with uncertainty despite her freedom.

All of her life, she’d had to make choices.
Her healing ability was both a curse and a gift. Who did she try to save, and who did she leave in the hands of God? Did she truly do anyone a favor by interfering? Or had God given her this special ability so she could do His work?

Many
thought her evil, but her mother had convinced her that those people didn’t understand her gift and therefore did not trust it or her. All were wary once they discovered her ability. Some thought her blessed and went so far as to touch her as she walked by. She’d been unable to convince them it did no good.

S
he’d prayed long and hard on these questions throughout her life, but the only answer had come from deep within her.

Each time her path crossed
with one who needed her help, she listened to her heart to determine what course of action to take. Some had been beyond her ability but that hadn’t stopped her from trying despite the danger. A person severely ill or injured drained her strength when she healed them—the worse the injury or illness, the longer it took her to recover.

She was not infallible, that she well knew.
Some limits were not to be pushed, and several times, she’d feared she’d gone too far, that she’d drained her very life force. That death would be the only reward for her efforts.

Now she was faced with
yet another choice. Did she try to heal this man, or did she make her escape?

Cursing under her breath
, she moved closer to him. In truth, no choice existed. She couldn’t leave him when he needed her, regardless of the fact that he was the only one who stood in the way of her freedom.

His mail-clad form presented a challenge.
The more barriers between her and the injury or illness, the less effective she was.

“Sir
William? Can you hear me?”

He stirred but didn’t respond.

“Sir William?”

His eyes opened
slowly, and his unfocused gaze caught on hers. He frowned, his brows casting shadows over his eyes. “What...is it?”

“
You are not well. A fever burns in you.”

“
Nay. Fine. Need to sleep,” he muttered.

With a tentative hand, she laid the back of her fingers against his cheek.
Heat, startling in its intensity, burned there. This was no minor problem that would be solved with rest.

“I fear not, sir.
Have you been injured? Are you ailing?”

A smile played across his firm, full lips, and her stomach fluttered in response.
The man was too handsome for his own good. Heaven knew what trouble he could wrought when he applied his charms.

“I know what you’re about, my lady.”
He reached for her with one finger and touched her cheek. “Should I reveal the least sign of weakness, you’ll be gone. That is why I bound you to me.”

Cristiana
shivered and swallowed hard. The man had no idea of the power of his touch. It far outweighed her own. Obviously the fever was affecting his behavior. She pulled her errant thoughts back to the immediate problem. With one hand, she reached for the end of the rope she’d cut and held it up to his view.

“I do not care for ties, sir.”

He stared at the ragged ends for a long moment before comprehension dawned. “Then why are you still here?”

His
deep voice created a soft rumble in her chest. Why indeed? That was a question for which she had no answer.

“I can’t help you unless I know what ails you.”

He closed his eyes
. “I’m fine.”

She shook her head at his stubbornness. Without his cooperation, she couldn’t aid him. “I know something of healing,” she admitted reluctantly.

One eye opened briefly. “Truly?”

“Aye.
If you want my help, you’ll have to tell me what’s wrong.”

A long
moment of silence was her only answer. At last, he said, “’Tis my shoulder. An old injury that refuses to heal.”

She eyed the
surcoat and mail and ran her hand lightly over each shoulder, but could detect no heat. “Which?”

He raised his hand and gestured toward his right.

Again, she touched the area, focusing intently for warmth. There! She detected a faint hint of heat. But she could do nothing until he removed the garments. Unless she was mistaken, he wore a padded aketon under those layers.

She bit her lip and lifted the arm that lay at his side.
She eased up his surcoat to find leather laces bound the metal coat to his body along his side. She plucked at the laces in the dim light, at last feeling them loosen. “Do you remove them completely?”

William opened his eyes and raised his brow
, a smile playing about his lips. “Do you intend to take advantage of me?”

She glared at him.
How could he jest at a time like this?

“Aye,
” he whispered, “you’d best take off the laces else I’ll not be able to remove the mail.”

As she worked the leather out of the links, she could see he did the same on the other side.
“Isn’t it rather uncomfortable?” she asked, referring to the chain mail.

“Nay, my lady.
Your touch doesn’t bother me at all.”

Even as she opened her mouth to protest, she realized he
quipped. This playful side of him was charming. “Your sense of humor must often cause you problems, William.”

He hissed with pain as he moved his sore shoulder.
“I only seek a smile from you. You’re far too somber.”

“We’ll see who
is smiling once we remove your mail. I fear it will not be you.”

“Ah, the lady has a sharp edge to her tongue.”
He drew a shallow breath, and she could tell his pain struck deep. “You have healing skills?”

The laces were free at last, and she moved
to his other side to finish what he’d started. “I do.”

He frowned.
“The girl. The little girl who fell off the fence. What did you do to her?”

Cristiana paused in her movements.
Keeping her gift hidden kept her both sane and safe. The less who knew of her talent, the better. That included this man.

“I only comforted her.”
Those with minor illnesses and injuries could easily be convinced that was the case. Those with more serious ones were often unconscious when she helped them. Either method worked for her. She could tell by the person’s eyes what they knew and what they only suspected.

And whether they deemed her
good or evil.

It mattered not to her.

Well, that wasn’t completely true. She didn’t care for the wary expression that came over people when the idea of the devil having a hand in aiding them crossed their minds.

“If you could
rise a bit, I’ll try to lift the mail over your head.”

William merely looked at her
, his brow arched in disbelief.

“Can’t you
lift up on your elbows at least?”

“My lady, the chances of you removing this are slim.”
He tapped his chest as he spoke. “Perhaps you should fetch Henry.”

She frowned at
the chain mail. “They are only little links. How heavy can it be?”

With a sigh, he rose up onto his elbows and lifted his backside.
She pushed the mail up so he could ease down again. “That wasn’t so bad.” She looked at him, quite pleased with her progress.

He gave her a small smile.
Obviously, the effort to remove the mail was already taking its toll. She’d best work quickly before his strength left him. She started at his back and lifted the long flap of chain mail. Or tried to.

“Oh, dear heavens.
This is heavy. How do you manage to walk about in this?”

“One gets used to it,” he muttered.
He drew a slow breath, then sat up and reached for the back of his mail. With her assistance, he lifted it hand over hand until it covered his head then she helped shove it to the side.

Cristiana
was breathless from her efforts. The padded aketon proved much easier to remove, leaving only a thin tunic on his upper body. His back burned beneath her hands even through the linen, the fever in full evidence. Yet still he had the strength to remove the mail. Her mouth went dry as she realized how very strong this man was.

At last,
he eased back down to the ground, his tunic covering him yet revealing more than she’d seen before, hinting at his muscled torso. She lifted her hand but halted at the thought of touching him.

“You have no supplies
to aid me,” he said.

His gaze
captured hers, and she found she couldn’t lie to him. “Nay. I do not.”

“What is it that you intend to do?”
His eyes narrowed with suspicion.

Her heart sank a little at the look.
Would he find her evil after she did what needed to be done?

She dropped her gaze, for she found she wasn’t ready to deal with the answer to that question.

“Let us see the wound first.” With gentle hands, she removed his linen tunic to reveal the muscled flesh beneath. A line of dark hair speared up from the top of his chausses and spread across his broad chest. His stomach rippled as his muscles contracted with pain. She swallowed hard at the sight before her.

While she’d seen men in various forms of disarray before,
never had she seen a man in the prime of his life bare-chested. The perfection of his upper body begged to be touched, but she resisted the urge. Still, a work of art such as his body deserved a moment of reverence.

His muscled
chest was forgotten as she gazed at the angry wound on his shoulder, its jagged edges gaping open to reveal the swollen tissue beneath. “No sword caused this wound,” she muttered.

“A lance.”

“You received this jousting? I thought there were rules against such things.”

Again, that small smile graced his lips.
“Aye, so there are.”

“Someone wished you great harm.”

“Someone wished me dead.”

Her gaze held his.
“I’m glad they failed.”

“As am I.”
He closed his eyes and seemed to relax. Did that mean he’d begun to trust her?

She berated herself for worrying about such nonsense.
She didn’t need his trust to heal him. Knowing how weak she’d be after she helped him, she threw more wood on the fire, noting no one else in the camp had stirred. Even the man-at-arms set to keep watch dozed.