Dragon's Knight, page 16
Aislynn could only nod, as she heard the door close firmly behind Jarrod.
In what, to Aislynn, was an amazingly short time, the older woman had helped her to remove her sodden shift, put on a simple garment of soft white wool, and brought her a bowl of warmed broth. Gratefully, Aislynn sipped at the liquid, which helped to warm her.
Hagar seemed content to let her consume the broth in silence, sitting nearby. Yet as Aislynn did so, she soon began to note that there was an odd tension to the silence.
She looked into the other woman’s plain but pleasant face. Odder still, Hagar seemed reluctant to meet her gaze.
Aislynn frowned. “Is something amiss?”
The other woman shook her head quickly—too quickly.
Aislynn grew even more certain that something was indeed wrong. She tried again. “Dear lady, it is clear that you are troubled. If there is something that I have…”
Hagar turned to her instantly, her gaze now round with horror. “Nay, my lady, dinna think it. Ye have done naught but good. And ’tis that which troubles me for I would repay your kindness in turn. Yet…” She bit her lip, her gaze going to a small chest beneath the one shuttered window.
Aislynn did not know what this could mean, but something, some sense of intuition told her to remain silent, as her heart began to pound with unmistakable anticipation. Hagar’s uncertain gaze found her again and Aislynn, feeling as if she were being measured in some way, returned it with complete candor.
Hagar continued to watch Aislynn for what felt a very long time. And then finally, suddenly, she took a deep breath and said, “There is something ye mun know, my lady. We have not told ye the truth.”
Aislynn held her breath, waiting, though somewhere inside her she knew before the words were said. “Your brother, Christian. He was here in Ashcroft.”
She had suspected this, but the words hit her like a blow from a battering ram. For though she was glad, overjoyed to know that Christian had been here, that they might be able to determine where he had gone from here, the fact that they had been lied to brought up more questions than she could sort out.
Why had the villagers lied?
What had brought Christian to this place?
When had he left?
Where had he gone?
What if, in fact, the woman was wrong and it was not Christian she was speaking of at all?
Before Aislynn could say a word, the older woman stood and went to the chest. From it she removed a sheet of parchment. Seeing what was on it, Aislynn knew without doubt that her brother had been here. It was a drawing and done in a manner that was unmistakably her brother’s.
Aislynn looked into the other’s eyes, her voice no more than a whisper as a horrifying thought came to her. “He is alive?”
Hagar nodded quickly. “Aye, alive and well.”
Relief swept through her in a dizzying wave as she reached for the drawing in a shaking hand. Quickly she took in the fact that it was of a woman’s profile, a very lovely woman, with large almond-shaped eyes, a regal nose and full lips. She also was aware of the symbol that graced one corner, the same that had been in the sketch of the dead soldier, Jack. Yet she did not take the time to wonder at this now.
She looked up at the other woman who was blurry due to the tears that had sprung up in her eyes. “Thank you. Thank you. You have no idea how grateful I am that you have told me this. But why has he not come home to us, or perhaps he has even now when I am here looking for him?”
Hagar shook her head. “That I dinna ken.”
Aislynn frowned. “I do not understand. Also I do not understand why, if you knew so very much, you lied to us when first we arrived. I told you that he was my brother.”
Hagar looked into the fire. “I ken it might be best if I began at the beginning. Ye see when first he came to Ashcroft your brother was quite ill, near unto death itself.” Aislynn gasped but Hagar instantly reassured her. “He is well now, as I have told you. I pledge my word on that, so worrying is useless.”
When Aislynn said no more she went on. “He was found washed up on the beach beneath yon cliffs. He had no bags nor horse, nor any other means to mark his identity, but his fine clothes.” She seemed to watch Aislynn closely. “’Twas the healing woman, Rowena, who nursed him back to the land of the living, though none of us thought she could, no matter how skilled she might be. My Sean, he was dead set against her keeping the stranger at her croft, it being some distance along the path into the wood from here. But she would not be told what she might do, no matter how he railed.”
Aislynn looked down at the drawing. “Your son loves this woman, does he not?”
Hagar sighed. “Aye, for as long as there’s been thought of any woman in his head. ’Twas why he took the drawing though he’d na right to it.” Again Hagar paused to watch Aislynn before adding, “Your brother was na alone when he left some days gone. He took Rowena with him.”
Aislynn stood, unconsciously allowing the drawing to slip to the floor. “Why would he do that? And none of this explains what he was doing here.”
Hagar raised her gray brows high. “’Twas Rowena he came here for and ’twas he who charged that we were none of us to speak of his having been here. Nor would he say whence they were going.”
Aislynn understood none of this. She bent to pick up the sheet of parchment, her gaze coming to rest on the young woman. Aislynn was struck by the beauty and grace her brother had managed to convey in that simple drawing. He had also captured a feeling of uncommon strength and pride in that regal profile. And again she took in the dragon symbol, feeling troubled by it but not knowing why.
Aislynn looked to the other woman. “What is going on? I do not understand. It seems the more I learn the less it all makes sense. Christian could not know this woman. He has only been back in England for a few short months. Most of that time has been spent with us, his family, at Bransbury and the rest with Simon and Jarrod, and I know Jarrod knows nothing of this woman.” She shook her head, then felt her own brows raise in question as she looked to Hagar. “Lest your Rowena might have been in the Holy Land.”
The other woman shook her head. “Nay. She had resided in no spot but this since her fourth year.”
She moved to put her hand on the older woman’s shoulders. “You must tell me everything you—”
At that moment the door opened. Aislynn looked to see none other than Sean standing there, his gaze on the drawing in her hand. “Mother! You didna…”
Hagar stood. “I did. This child saved young Fiona’s life this day. I couldna…”
“You couldna tell what we are sworn to keep secret. That’s what ye couldna do. Rowena’s life may depend upon it.” He came toward Aislynn, his hand outstretched. “Give it to me.”
Aislynn could hear the misery in his voice, but she could not relinquish the drawing. “It is my brother’s and you will not take it.”
She turned and ran for the open door, desperate to keep him from taking this bit of Christian away from her. And as she ran, she could think of nothing save finding Jarrod. Only with him would she, and her brother’s drawing, be safe.
Chapter Eleven
Aislynn shivered as she noted that a light rain was falling. Quickly she shoved Christian’s drawing into the long white sleeve of her garment, then raced toward the village. The water that had gathered in puddles soaked the bottom of the light wool, not to mention her bare feet, further robbing her body of heat.
And all the while her heart was pounding with alarm and relief at getting away from Sean before he could take the drawing. She also felt a growing glow of happiness. Despite her confusion about how Christian could know this Rowena, she now knew he had been in Ashcroft. He had been ill as her father feared, but was now recovered.
She must tell Jarrod so they could be on their way to finding Christian again.
The anticipation of telling Jarrod buoyed her as she ran on. It was not until she had passed the smith’s shop, that she saw him walking toward her on the road.
His gaze found her at the same moment. His expression of surprise soon changed to concern as he saw her sodden state. “Aislynn, what the devil are you thinking? You should not have come out dressed like this, especially after your recent dunking.”
She rushed to meet him, her eyes catching and holding his as she anticipated his reaction to her news. “Jarrod, I can not talk about that now. I had to come to you. Sean was threatening to take this from me.” She removed the rolled-up sheet of parchment from her sleeve, seeing Jarrod’s eyes grow wide with amazement as she did so.
“Christian.”
She laughed, tucking it back into her sleeve. “Aye. He was here. As you suspected, they were lying to us. Hagar told me all. Then her son appeared and…”
He frowned. “You say he tried to take the drawing from you. I will—”
She stopped him with a hand on his chest. “Nay, put all thoughts of him aside. There is a girl involved, a Rowena, and it seems Sean is in love with her.”
“A girl! Aislynn, what are you speaking of?”
“The drawing is of her, but we must get in out of the rain before I show it to you more closely. Her cottage is in the wood. We may find our answers there.”
He reached out to take her shoulders in a tight hold. “How do you know this?”
“As I said, Hagar told me. Sean came in and stopped her.” She met his gaze with certainty. “He will allow her to tell no more, for he has some fear that doing so will endanger this woman. But I think Hagar has told me all she knows.”
“But if they might know more…”
She shook her head. “Any further information would need be coerced from them and I would not wish to cause that dear lady any more troubles with her son. And he is only doing what he feels is right, Jarrod.”
He grimaced. “Very well then. We will leave them be.”
She nodded, feeling unaccountably pleased that Jarrod would follow her wishes in this. At the same time she shivered as a cool breeze pressed the woolen gown against her back and a large drop of rain fell on her cheek.
Now Jarrod’s brow creased in a frown that was as much from worry as anger as he said, “What am I thinking? You should not be standing here in the cold.”
She began, “I am not so very…”
Then before she knew what was happening, she had been scooped up into Jarrod Maxwell’s arms for the second time in one day. So surprised was she that for a moment Aislynn could not utter a sound.
Without a word, Jarrod started back in the direction of Hagar’s cottage.
Finally, trying not to think of the warmth and hardness of his chest against her, she said, “Please, you need not do this. I can walk.”
He made no reply but to keep on walking.
She said, “What if we are no longer welcome at Hagar’s home?”
This time he replied, “Then we will find another place to get you warm, but we must get our belongings.”
Aislynn felt a thrill of something she could not name, and all from realizing that with Jarrod to protect her, no one would ever take anything from her. If only…
But there was no “if only.” It would be much easier to resign herself to things as they were if he were not carrying her against the hard warmth of his body. Unfortunately, try though she might, Aislynn could not help noting the strength of him, the damp male scent of his nape.
Earlier in the day she had been distracted by not only the painful memories of being down the well, but also her relief at being free. Now her wayward mind was left with little to keep it from wandering to things it should not.
She was beset by the memories of what those strong hands had felt like on her body, the most intimate parts of her. She knew the taste of those lips, which were now only inches from her own gaze. And though they were set with determination rather than soft with desire as her memory so raptly recalled, they were no less distracting when she thought of their touch on her heated flesh.
He took her not to the cottage, but to the animal shelter where they had slept. Aislynn did not question why.
He set her down at the foot of the ladder and she hurried up it, Jarrod coming close behind her. When he reached the top, she looked into his face for the first time since he had picked her up in his arms. His expression was dark, showing no sign of the tenderness she had seen before. He spoke abruptly. “We must get you dry.”
Stung, Aislynn looked away while he retrieved his cloak from where she had folded in and placed it upon his bed of hay. How long ago that now seemed. And when he turned back to her, his face appeared stern and hard.
Aislynn wrapped her arms around herself, feeling the cold air on her legs, which she suddenly realized were bared nearly to the knee. Blushing, she awkwardly tugged at the woolen garment in an effort to cover them.
His voice was tight as a strung bow as he said, “You will need to remove it.”
Aislynn, far more chilled by his sudden cold demeanor, was driven beyond reason to cry, “What have I done now that you would be so cool?”
His gaze narrowed, giving nothing away.
She went on. “You do not have to be so cruel. I have asked nothing of you, Jarrod.”
He became very still and his voice was barely audible. “I am not being cruel. I…”
Aislynn waited in silence for him to continue, praying that he might help her to understand how he did feel. And finally when she could bear it no more, she blurted, “I know of the woman, the one in the Holy Land, the one whom you loved, still love. The woman whose ribbon you carry. Sadona told me all she knew.”
Jarrod grabbed her by the shoulders. “How dare you discuss me behind my back?”
Aislynn could feel her eyes going wide as she took in the sudden and ragged depth of his anger. “I did not…She only thought to help me understand.”
He laughed bitterly, interrupting her. “You understand nothing. My feelings for the woman you spoke of are not at all what you imagine.” He looked away, the muscles working in his lean jaw as he turned back to her and said, “The woman Sadona told you of was my mother.”
“Your mother? But Sadona thought…she said the woman was a…”
Again a bitter laugh escaped him. “And she was. Yet I would have cared naught for that if she had wanted me. Yet she did not. When I told her who I was, she sent me away, informed me that I was not to return. I should not have expected more from a woman who would give her own child away, believing she would never see him again.”
Aislynn was not blind to the raw pain in him, a pain that made her heart soften in the face of his anger. “I…forgive me. Sadona did not know.”
He held her gaze. “No one has ever known. Not even Christian or Simon. And I have no notion of why I would say so much to you, other than that you seem determined to worm your way into places where no one else has dared to tread.”
“I will never speak of it again.” She turned away, blinking back regret and sorrow.
Jarrod stood, tossing the cloak onto the hay beside her. “I will leave you alone to dress.” He swung around to go.
Her mind reeling from not only his hostility toward her but all he had revealed, she reached down to grasp her sodden skirts in her hands, finding the task too much for her trembling arms. Determinedly she tugged again, groaning in frustration as her limbs refused to work the way they should.
Then, before she even knew what was happening, Jarrod knelt before her, pushing her hands away. “Let me.”
The brusqueness of his voice only served to further hurt her. Feeling her throat close up, her eyes stinging with tears, Aislynn whispered, “Please, please, I can not bear it. I meant you no ill and beg you to hurt me no more this day.”
With a groan of anguish and relinquishment Jarrod pulled her into his arms. He held her close against him, whispering, “Forgive me, Aislynn. I am a knave, a blackguard. I do not mean to be cruel. It is my own wanting that makes me fight you so.”
Those wet blue eyes turned up to his and time froze for one inexplicable moment as he read the need in them. And then his mouth found hers, with a certainty that this moment could not have been prevented no matter how hard he tried.
So delicate in his arms she was, so sweetly yielding. He reached out a seeking hand and came into contact with the curve of a hip.
His loins tightened as he realized that Aislynn had managed to remove her garment this far, baring her velvet skin to his touch. Though his manhood stirred, Jarrod held himself in check, knowing his desire was to go slowly, to enjoy every lovely inch of that form which had haunted his every moment since the night they’d nearly come together at the inn.
His lips left hers to brush against cheeks that were damp with tears. Silently he kissed them away, feeling the tightness of regret in his chest. Never would he hurt her. Far from it, for she awakened a tenderness in him that he had never even suspected he could feel, as well as passion. A passion he could no longer deny.
He felt her shiver against him and realized that she was still wearing wet clothes. More than happy to rid her of them, Jarrod gripped the end of the wool and pulled it upward, gently but firmly.
Aislynn made no demure, lifting her arms to aid him as he passed it over her head. Then quickly she pressed herself back against him, whether it be eagerness or shyness, Jarrod did not know, but he held her tightly, kissing those soft lips once more.
Jarrod moved his hands down to cup her small but womanly bottom in his palms. He felt that stirring again.
Aislynn gave a slight start as she felt the heat of his hands on her, feeling a pooling warmth in her lower belly. She knew not why he had changed so suddenly from anger to passion, but she was powerless to care, captured by her own inexplicable and inescapable desire for this man, who was mysterious and open at one and the same time. Mysterious when it came to himself and his past, open when it concerned kindness and generosity and faithfulness.
Jarrod continued to press his mouth gently to hers and, in a moment, felt a stab of satisfaction as her small hand came up to reach beneath his tunic and curl in the dark patch of hair on his chest. Feeling a thrill of pleasure at the touch, he continued to ply her mouth with his own, nipping and sucking at hers, drawing a response she seemed eager to give.
