With a scowl, Iliana paced in her chamber, mulling over the arrival of the small army of men. It bothered her that she'd wavered at that instant of opportunity, when she'd had the chance to kill that man and doubt had struck. By the Holy Saints, where had that cautioning voice come from? She should have taken her chances and run him through -- but then she had thought of the consequences and hesitated. And he had taken her sword! Iliana clenched her fists. She must retrieve her sword. It was irreplaceable. The waving blade was her only advantage when matched against those stronger and more experienced.
Footsteps approached her door. Iliana bit her lips, fingers clenched tightly as she pondered her next move. She would have to find a way to keep her people safe. What if this man wanted to control not only the lands but also the lucrative gems she traded?
How dare that scoundrel come here! For a brief moment on that tower a thought had intruded. How could he appear so -- so devilishly handsome and carefree? She shook her head, clenching her fists at such feeble thoughts.
She was dismayed he didn't appear to be as she expected. He did not look a rebel living on the edge of life.
"By all that is holy, he was amused!" Iliana threw her gloves to the bedding, then frowned, trying to recall that which puzzled her about the man. In truth, she knew nothing about him other than what the messenger had relayed. Angrily, Iliana yanked wool hose and the baggy chausses down over slim knees, then kicked them off. Just thinking of the army outside made her stomach churn with nerves and fear.
"Mistress, may I help you?" Agnes, her personal maid, pushed open her chamber door, then quickly bent down to retrieve the crumpled hose.
"The men -- they are settled outside the walls?" Iliana asked.
The maid nodded soberly. "Aye, that they have, mistress, ere I wouldna come near this chamber. Perhaps I can offer comfort of sorts now that that one is here."
Maid and mistress were direct opposites. Iliana was of medium stature, while Agnes, although several years younger, was a girl of immense height, her arms brawny and muscled from hard work. Until she had come to live within Dutton Keep, there had been many a season she had helped tend her father's flocks and turned a field for plowing. But now, the fields lay half tilled, last year's crops rotten in the barren soil.
"I must think on what to do."
"Mayhaps a romance will be in the offing," Agnes disclosed hopefully. "I would wager he is a man of immense appetites."
Incredulously, Iliana turned to stare at the girl. Agnes had a faraway look in her eyes. Iliana grimaced, her lips turning down. "There will be no romance, as well you know," she said abruptly. "There are no happy endings, just wives who do their husband's bidding and must be content with their lot until they are fortunate enough to die." Even as she said the words, Iliana rebelled at such thoughts. She didn't want her life to be like that, but she could see no happy ending in sight.
Agnes looked at her mistress and Iliana grimaced to see Agnes shaking her head sadly. She had only just become her personal maid and no doubt had heard of her Mistress' sometimes strange ways...
"How is the wee one?" Agnes bent down to the cradle at the smiling baby. "Never have I seen such a contented baby."
Iliana smiled and joined her. "Dear little William, such a sweet face, just waking up from his nap."
Reaching now into a wooden chest at the foot of her bed, the maid shook out a rich blue kirtle. Iliana stood still in her linen shift, arms upraised, then allowed Agnes to drop the kirtle over her head and fasten a slim leather girdle about her waist. Lastly, Agnes picked up the small jeweled dagger resting upon the bed furs and held it doubtfully in her palm.
"I will wear it, of course I shall," said Iliana, seeing Agnes' hesitation. "He shall be in no doubt as to my state of mind regards this intrusion into our lives here."
"Milady, if I may say so, all of Dutton Keep must surely be aware of your state of mind."
Iliana smoothed the gown over her hips, dark brows quirking with surprise, then pleasure.
Of their own accord, her lips began to curve upwards. The knowledge that many knew of her distaste for this intrusion pleased her.
"Agnes, tell me what you know."
"They say your trade in rare gems stirs interest in the countryside and that is why this men and his troops were sent to keep a close eye on your dealings. They may seek to wrest such ventures from the hands of an unmarried woman, begging your pardon, mistress."
Iliana twisted around to look at Agnes, alarm on her face. ""Well you know, Agnes, these gems are all that keep the people alive. Surely they cannot take that, too?" With growing despair, Iliana knew her lucrative trade in gems could easily be wrestled from her. She was a woman with no family or husband, no liege lord to protect her interests. They could easily invade her trade, thereby snatching all real joy from this wretched life.
Deep in thought, Iliana moved to sit on the small bench beside the window, tilting her head so Agnes might work the comb through her hair.
"It is bleak, Agnes." She turned on the small stool. "And what of William? What will become of him?"
"The little one will grow up as boys do." A boy without a father.
Although it was accepted that women bore children without the protection of a man, for Iliana it went against everything she believed, for her son to be without a father. But indeed, what could she do about it?
Iliana grabbed the maid's large hand. "Did the men follow my orders?" she asked.
Agnes resumed the combing as she nodded. "Aye, mistress. Not a man raised their hand against that one's men."
Iliana relaxed once more. "It is a simple matter that I would practice defiance, but I cannot allow others to become embroiled in this affair."
"Milady, if you don't mind my saying so, any of the men would gladly lay down their lives for you." Agnes' young voice was passionate, her soft brown eyes sparking as she pulled the comb through a tangle of hair.
"Here, Agnes, be calm." Good naturedly, Iliana gripped the young girl's hand. "I understand your passion, but do remember my poor scalp."
Immediately, the young girl was all apologies. "I beg pardon, mistress, I am new to this and sometimes forget myself." Gently, Agnes stroked her mistress's hair. "Such hair I have never seen. You are truly blessed with hair like darkest night."
"Thank you, Agnes. And how is your shoulder? Does it ache any less?"
Agnes rubbed her right shoulder. "Oh yes, my lady. Last night I had a wonderful rest and did not stir once until the morn. The shoulder seems to be healing."
"I have more crushed gemstones to place beneath your shoulder at night. We should continue the healing at least until the new moon."
"Thank you, my lady. I thought I should live with the pain of a twisted shoulder for the rest of my life."
A loud knock suddenly sounded on the chamber door. "Why -- whoever can that be?" Agnes demanded indignantly, hurrying to the massive door.
Pulling open the door, however, her face changed. Watching her, Iliana noted her maid's ruddy complexion was suddenly suffused with yet more color. The open door obscured whoever it was from Iliana's sight. Nevertheless, Iliana experienced a sudden tightening in her chest.
"M-my lord --" Agnes stuttered, stepping back. Her mistress' comb clattered to the stone floor as the girl pressed her hand against her breast. Iliana's head jerked sharply, and she came to her feet, the hair on the back of her neck standing upright as slowly, the door opened wider. Feet braced on the threshold of her sleeping chamber, the sword he had taken from her point down on the stone floor, stood Mandrak.
"You are not invited into my chamber," she said angrily. "Be gone."
"I merely return what you left behind," he said, a roguish grin on his lips. He held up her sword.
"You have returned it," she snapped. "Now go."
¤¤
Erik drew his gaze from the serving woman to stare at the mistress of Dutton Keep. With lively interest, he noted Iliana's attire, a plain, unadorned gown which flowed to her ankles, the deep color enhancing her rich blue eyes.
Iliana's complexion paled, full lips thinned as if with pain, yet Erik swore sparks flew from her eyes upon first seeing him. Her fury hit him like a physical wall and she looked as welcoming as a Nor'easter in the Catskills.
"That's a cold how-do-you-do, to be sure," he remarked with a lopsided grin. "However, I admired your earlier unconventional welcome to such a degree I felt I should serve my own unorthodox welcome upon you personally and away from prying eyes."
Iliana stepped back from the blond giant, trying to ignore the sparkle in green eyes and the smile on his lips. He bore many battle scars, and a long scar that ran from his neck across his cheek and toward the back of his head. A fearsome injury, she thought.
With detached interest, she noted it did not detract from his features. His shoulders were wide and muscled beneath his loose fitting tunic. In his hands he held her wavy sword, and now he tossed it on to the bed furs.
With a screech, Iliana lunged across the bed and quickly she jumped off to the other side. She reached down to lift William from his cradle. He stared up at her, his eyes their usual bright green, always with a smile lurking. She pressed him to her breast.
"You have a child?" he said into the silence. "An infant," he muttered.
She turned her back on him. "You might have maimed him in your carelessness."
"There was no danger," he said, his voice suddenly tense.
Iliana turned back as Agnes came to take the baby.
"Mistress, I will see to the wee one's fresh garments."
"Thank you, Agnes." Pressing a finger to William's nose, seeing his smile, Iliana let Agnes take him to be changed into dry clothing.
"We shall go below to finish this conversation," she said, every instinct warning her against the smile curling his lips. "Agnes, will you bring William to me when he is changed?" Iliana was momentarily caught off guard by the enthralled look on the maid's face as she stared at the man.
"Agnes?" Iliana's voice was sharper than she intended.
Face reddening guiltily, Agnes nodded. Surely Agnes was not attracted to such a man!
Iliana backed up several steps as he dared to advance into her chamber, a room that suddenly felt too confining due to his size. His eyes, their very strange color of green, bothered her, as did their intensity.
He retrieved the sword. "It is a finely crafted blade," he mused. "And quite odd, I might add, to see such a weapon." His brow quirked. "But then maybe not so odd after all."
Confused, she stared at him, then looked down at the blade. Transfixed, she could not tear her eyes from those long fingers which caressed the intricately curved hilt of her sword.
"Thank you for returning my sword."
He looked up slowly, caught her gaze with his own. Iliana's pulse began to race frantically, while a strange, sickening heat enveloped her body, making her incredibly lightheaded. Her stomach churned with fear and queasiness. The man was making her sick!
He smiled, his teeth straight and even. "It is surely the labor of a real craftsman, a light blade fitted so neatly for the hand of a woman."
Iliana's mouth grew dry, loathe to tell this man anything.
He flipped the sword, staring with great interest down the curved and waving blade, then his gaze pinned her with its intensity. "I have seen this type of flamberge rapier in a private collection," he said slowly.
"That is impossible," she said. "It is my design."
He raised a brow, but did not argue the point. "I have never met a lady so well versed in the art of fencing."
"I have been taught by the best," she said, raising her chin. "This is not London court, where one relies on the queen for protection."
Laying the sword gently back on the bed furs, he let his gaze run over her slender arms beneath the filmy sleeves. Iliana stepped back.
"You wield it skillfully."
She thought for a moment he was complimenting her skill, but surely he must be mocking her!
"Say what you have come to say and be done with it." She tamped down the note of desperation, hoping he did not recognize it as such. "You are a monster to toy with me this way," she muttered, unable to contain herself any longer.
He towered over her, seemingly in no hurry to put her out of her misery as he glanced about her sparse bedchamber. For surely it was misery and terror which gripped her and made her feel so ill, her hands and feet like ice.
"I confess I don't understand your animosity. When last we parted it was with the most loving of arms," he protested.
Incredulous, she said, "How can you think to come here and expect any kind of welcome?"
"I know it has been three years you were aboard my ship, but surely --"
She stared at him. Was the man mad? "I was not aboard a ship."
He looked askance at her, one dark blond brow raised. She had quieted him for the moment.
"I do not know you. I was told an army would arrive to disrupt life here at Dutton Keep," she said angrily. "I do not want you here."
"That is clear," he muttered. "But I am here nonetheless."
She dared to grab the sleeve of his tunic and just as quickly let go. "Come. Now. Come." She urged him over to her life tapestry, and lightly she touched the opaque golden fabric, gently ran her fingers over its surface until the surface began to change, the scenes depicted blurred and spun. Gently, ever so gently, Iliana pushed the time back until she reached that space of time where the tapestry turned dark, the scene where Sir Robert lay dying in the forest.
She watched his face, his eyes narrowed as he studied the scene. "A sad picture," he murmured. "Who is that?" he asked, pointing.
She shook her head impatiently. "Sir Robert. He was the last to hold this keep under an age-old line. He died and now all this falls to me."
He moved his hand toward the tapestry. Roughly, she pushed his hand away.
"Do you think to change the events? Do not touch this tapestry." She glared at him.
"If I touch it, I have the power to change the events?"
"You are not to touch an open tapestry. It is my life tapestry."
In truth, Iliana was feeling strangely confused. This meeting was not what she had expected, nor was he. How could he expect her to be welcome him and how could he not know how a life tapestry could be altered by another person's touch?
He was a handsome specimen, her brain could not deny it. The soft grey tunic he wore was tight across his chest, accentuating the musculature beneath. Sun-lightened hair touched his shoulders, and one cheek was marred by thin white scars. For a brief moment, Iliana could see him as Agnes had undoubtedly seen him, but she would take no joy in what she saw.
"It has been said you have come to take Dutton Keep from me and the people," she said. "If I were a man you would never dare to come here."
He looked at her in surprise. "For my part," he said with a grin, "I am glad you are not."
"You cannot woo me with words," she said stonily.
"Then I must woo you with my actions."
"You waste both our time." Slowly, she lifted the wave-bladed sword from the bed furs and stared at him with hard eyes. "I shall have to kill you instead."
He looked at her steadily, his hand on his own sword hilt. "Then I will be on my guard."
¤¤
Erik sighed. All was not going as he'd hoped. The passion in her words affected him. All this time he had searched for her, yes, yearned to find her, always going back to the seven days they spent together. Erik shook his head, bombarded by thoughts of dragons in the sky and tapestries that showed life events in colorful art and detail, and that changed as you moved your hands over the surface. He had a sudden thought.
"Do I have a life tapestry?" he asked.
Her eyes grew wide. Impatiently, she said, "Since birth you are granted a tapestry, but your life is not recorded until you are one years old." She looked at him skeptically, as well she might. Apparently, this was knowledge he should already have if he were from this world. "I have no doubt your tapestry is old and tattered and red from the blood you have shed with your warring activities."
Erik clenched his jaw. This pretense grew more cumbersome by the minute.
"I would tell you I mean you no harm, but it seems I cannot convince you."
She crossed her arms.
"Then I shall stop trying."
Erik dropped all bantering, the whiteness of her face and clenched fists telling a story that was beginning to bite at him. Here was a woman very much in distress and there was nothing he could say to relieve her fears. He was certain Mandrak had more men than Ulrich watching his every move. She didn't appear to even recall their time together and that was also a hard truth to swallow.
With a muffled oath, he reached out his hand, his intent merely to lightly touch her cheek with his fingers, perhaps to soothe her. The gesture went awry and his entire palm cupped her cheek. She flinched away and twin spots of color began to burn in her cheeks.
"Please forgive me, Iliana, for surely I do not mean to frighten or threaten you." His voice was rough with apology and regret.
"I am not frightened," she bit out, as if it were a great effort to speak at all. A dart of surprise flitted across her face, then was quickly replaced by that loathsome coldness. "Your appearance in my chamber was unexpected, that is all. If you truly mean your words, then take your men and leave."
He shook his head with regret. "That I cannot do." He wanted to gain her trust, but right now he wondered if that might prove impossible.
The blue of her eyes were dilated to tiny points. Although she did not back away or try to evade him, Erik could feel some part of her shrinking from his touch. His nostrils flared as he took in the scent of her, the fragrance of roses. Unaccountably, his senses stirred, his body responded.
"I mean you no harm." Impatient with himself, Erik turned and quickly strode toward the door.
She narrowed her eyes. "Am I to believe your lies? Do not come to my chamber again."
"I shall await an invitation."
"Then you shall wait," she said with satisfaction.
"And my name is Erik Remington," he said and left the room.
Iliana followed him to the door, watched him move down the narrow corridor and toward the stairs. Agnes joined her in the doorway and Iliana took little William into her arms.
"He is not as I expected," she said, but she certainly would not trust a man who came to take her livelihood.
Was he trying to lull her into a false security? Iliana knew it was the waiting she would find most difficult. Waiting until he decided to make his plans known.