Читать книгу The Shielded Heart - Sharon Schulze - Страница 11

Swen stared at William. “What do you mean?” he asked. A tide of heat washed over his face as he considered how his words might be taken. “I beg your pardon, lady. I did not mean that you have no value, of course. ‘Tis only that he spoke of you as though you…” He’d best stop, he realized, for anything he said would make things worse. “I don’t understand, but ‘tis none of my affair.”

Mistress Anna—nay, she was naught but Anna in his mind—stared down at her fingers, twisted tight together in her lap. She looked pale, as though she’d been ill, or would be soon. He was a rag-mannered lout to press them for answers that were no business of his. They’d been attacked, perhaps because of her presence here. Some of her men, men she probably knew well, had been killed in her service. Most likely she wished him and his curiosity long gone.

His absence was an easy enough gift to give her, though in truth, he’d rather remain with her. She and his reaction to her presented a puzzle he ached to solve. But ‘twould be churlish to press her out of a selfish desire to satisfy his curiosity.

Or to savor the pleasure of her company.

He stood and held out a hand to her. “May I escort you to your tent, milady?”

She peered up at him through her lashes, then placed her hand in his and allowed him to help her off the ground. She moved slowly, as though she hurt, but the look she turned his way dared him to remark upon it.

He understood pride well enough to ignore her challenge. He placed her hand on his forearm and covered it for a moment with his own.

William motioned them ahead with the torch. “Come along,” he growled, falling into step with them as they entered the camp. “’Tis past time to settle down for the night. And I’ve a powerful hunger and thirst. We’ll eat, then see what we can learn from those mercenary scum.”

A tug on his arm brought Swen to a halt. “William, how do you know they’re mercenaries?” Anna asked.

“‘Tis a simple matter. Their armor and clothes are worn and mismatched, their weapons, such as they are, were old in my father’s day, and they fight like a pack of wild dogs after a bone.” He glanced at Swen. “What think you, Siwardson?”

He’d plenty of experience with hired soldiers. “Aye, you could be right. ‘Tis a pity, for they’re not apt to tell us who hired them, or why.”

William grunted his agreement. “Probably don’t even know who paid ‘em, most like.”

Anna looked from Swen to William and scowled. “So some unknown person may have hired these men to attack us, or to capture me?”

“Aye, lass.”

“But why?”

William sighed. “Have you no notion of your value to the abbey? Your work is prized above most others’, and you’ve a gift no one can steal from you. There’s only one way to get it, mistress. If they take you, they take your gift. There’s plenty who’d pay no heed to whether you wished to work for them or not.” He doused the torch in the dirt, for they had no need for it by the fire. “At least they’ll do you no harm, if it’s any consolation. No one would risk damaging the goose that laid the golden egg. But have you never wondered why Father Michael keeps you and the village under guard? ‘Tis to protect you. Christ on the Cross, child, you’ve wits enough to understand this.”

“How wonderful,” she said, tossing her mass of hair over her shoulder. “If I’m taken captive, I need not worry for my safety.” She reached a hand toward William. “But what of yours? Or your men? We’ve lost two already, and for what?”

“They knew the risk when they hired on,” William said, but he did not meet her eyes. “They lived a good life in Murat, and their families will never want.”

“I know.” Anna gazed at William’s face for a long while. “But that doesn’t make me feel much better about their deaths. I do understand, William,” she murmured. She slipped her hand free of Swen’s arm. “I’ve forgotten my place in the world, I fear.”

“None of that, lass,” William said. “Come, sit by the fire and eat. You’ll feel better for it. Let Siwardson look over that bump on your head while I get the food.”

He’d not escape Anna’s spell so soon after all, Swen thought with a skip of his pulse. “I’m no healer, milady, but I’ll do what I can.”

Someone had brought a rough order to the clearing. Their victims and their few prisoners were gathered off to the side, overseen by an armed guard. The wounded would need tending; then, perhaps, they might be coaxed to reveal who’d sent them here.

Could they be so fortunate? He doubted it.

Though they’d been lucky so far. Anna had escaped abduction, only some of her men had been killed, and they had vanquished their foe—for the nonce. Much of their success was due to Anna’s guards. William had trained his men well; they were efficient fighters. He doubted that the grizzled captain had learned his craft in this remote backwater of the Marches. But whatever drew him here, ’twas to Anna’s benefit to have him lead her escort.

It wasn’t William’s fault she’d nearly been taken, Swen thought as he settled her beside the fire. Despite the fact that he’d been busy, he’d noticed her roaming about the clearing as the battle progressed. He was certain the older man had told her to keep away from the fighting. She shouldn’t have been there.

Though who could say she’d have been any safer in her tent?

If she’d been abducted from there, the farthest edge of the camp, they’d not have seen or heard a sound if she’d called for them.

He sat down next to her. “What happened back there?” Fingers tingling in anticipation, Swen reached to move her unruly curls out of the way. Her hair was so soft…

She turned slightly away from him to allow him better access to the lump. “The man lay hidden in the bushes.” She winced as he drew a finger over the bruise. “He grabbed me by the ankle and pulled me to the ground.”

“How did you get away?”

Her breath escaped in a hiss when he blotted the blood from the swelling. Surprisingly, she chuckled. “I hit him in the head with a rock—the one you used as a hammer.”

“So you gave him a bruise to match yours,” Swen said with a smile.

Her answering smile was so fleeting, he wondered if he’d imagined it. “Nay, it did naught but dent his helm. But when I kicked him in the face he released me at once and ran away.” She reached up and captured his hand in hers, bringing it to rest briefly against her cheek. “’Twas what he said that frightened me worse than being held down,” she added, frowning. “He told me he was to take me captive, but he must not harm me—” she met his gaze, her own steady “—in any way. Though he wanted to. But ’twas worth too much to him to keep me safe. Someone is willing to pay very well to gain my services, it seems.”

Swen tightened his grip on her hand, then released it. “Don’t be afraid,” he told her. “Do you imagine William would permit any harm to come to you? Especially after tonight’s events?”

“This is all too much to consider. That my guards laid down their lives for me…” She shuddered and wrapped her arms about herself. “It’s not right. They shouldn’t be at risk because of me. I only wish to do my work, without interruption, to the best of my ability, for the abbot keeps me busy with commissions. I don’t have time to worry about whether someone will try to take me from Murat. I’ve too much to do.”

Was her work so important? He knew he was ignorant about many things, especially life here in the south. A man who could fight and protect his family, or who could provide well for his loved ones through his skill in trading—those were talents of great value in his world.

And they were occupations for men. He’d never met a woman whose worth was not tied to her beauty, her family bonds or her dower. Anna de Limoges must create objects of great importance to be so valuable herself.

Despite the roaring fire, Anna continued to shiver. Swen looked around and spied his cloak where he’d tossed it aside earlier. He retrieved it from the ground and, after shaking it out, draped it around Anna’s shoulders.

She snuggled into the heavy fabric with a murmured word of thanks. He drew the fur-lined hood up around her neck, his fingers lingering to stroke along her cheekbone.

He’d been right earlier when he’d likened her skin to silk—soft and smooth to the touch, sending a shiver of awareness over his own skin before he forced himself to back away. “Does the cloak help?”

She nodded. “Thank you.”

One of the guards brought them a trencher of bread and cheese and a wineskin. Anna picked at the food, her thoughts clearly elsewhere. She looked troubled, tired, and her face had not lost its pallor.

What could he do for her? he wondered, for her uneasiness weighed heavily upon him.

“Mistress Anna, don’t feel you must stay here on my account,” he said. “You’re weary, and dawn will arrive before you’ve had a chance to get much rest. Come, let me escort you to your tent.”

Her eyes grew round. “I don’t wish to be alone.”

“I’ll guard you myself. No harm will come to either of us, I promise you. Who would be mad enough to attack me?” he added with a grin, patting the hilt of his dagger.

Her answering smile was faint, but beautiful. He rose and helped her to her feet. “William,” he called, “Mistress Anna is retiring to her tent.”

The captain turned, set aside an ale horn and joined them, bending to kindle a torch in the leaping flames. “Get some rest, lass. ‘Tis the best thing for you.”

William went into the tent first, sword at the ready, and lit a lamp. “Come, lass,” he said, opening a bundle of furs and spreading them on the ground. “You look ready to swoon. Sit you down before you fall.”

Swen held back the door flap and led her into the tent. “I told her I would stand guard,” he said. “She is concerned that her attacker might return with more men.”

“Aye, ‘tis a good idea. There’s not enough of us left to sleep in shifts. We’ll all stay awake for what’s left of the night.” He gazed at Anna, curled up in the furs. “All except you. You might as well sleep, if you can.”

She nodded, though Swen didn’t believe for a moment that she’d rest. He could see too many questions in her amber eyes. But she’d stay put in the tent.

He’d see to it himself, if need be.

“Good night, milady.” He raised her hand to his lips. As he turned to leave her, an image suddenly filled his mind, a picture so vivid and real he felt it like a blow to the heart.

Swen drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly as he willed his feet to carry him a short distance from the tent. He slid his knife from its sheath and leaned back against a tree, letting the knife’s familiar weight soothe him.

He knew now why Anna de Limoges seemed so familiar to him, an awareness he felt deep within his being.

He’d seen her before—many times before.

In his dreams.