Chapter 18

 

Jarin had spent many a night with a woman, but none as tantalizing, none as enchanting, as was last night with Lady Cristiana D’Clere. And oddly not for the reasons one would expect. He smiled and pushed to sit from his position on the ground beside her and the babe. In truth ’twas not beside, but a few feet away. Bosh! A man could only take so much temptation.

He rubbed his aching eyes and glanced over the trees, where the hint of dawn brought leaves and branches into focus. Birds began to warble their morning tunes, ever happy tunes. But then again they had naught but flitting from branch to branch and eating seeds and worms to fill their day—not being a mouse to a cat in a game of chase that could end up in death.

Which is why he’d hardly slept last night, keeping vigil over the precious souls entrusted to him. Rising, he stretched his back and quietly lowered to his haunches beside them. Cristiana, dear Cristiana, her thick black lashes fanned over lustrous cheeks as she lay on the pillow he’d formed for her, the babe tucked against her chest, her little cherub expression one of pure innocence. And Jarin’s leather cloak over them both. He rubbed his arms against the chill of the morning. She wouldn’t accept it when she retired, so he’d waited for her to fall asleep. Knowing they slept warm and dry had kept him warm all night.

Almost.

He should go seek out food to break their fast. He should gather wood to get the fire going again. But he could not turn away from this rare moment, a chance to stare at this angel without her knowing. To gaze upon her beauty….her exquisite loveliness—the way her fawn-colored hair lay in wisps upon her face and flowed like liquid amber over her curves, the pink hue to her lips, the color the sunshine of yesterday drew from her cheeks.

She twitched, and her lips moved, reminding him of their kiss, the sensation of her soft lips on his, the sweet taste he barely sampled ere she pushed from him, a look of horror on her face. Faith, a reaction he’d never encountered from a lady before! One kiss and he normally had a woman at his mercy. Not this lady. Though ’twas not from a lack of passion on her part. For if Jarin knew one thing, ’twas when a woman’s longing matched his own.

That she’d not given herself to him pleased him more than he could make sense of. This was a proper lady, a woman of honor and morality he’d not seen the likes of in either pauper or princess. A woman of kindness and goodness and care for others.

A lady worth protecting with his life.

Thebe’s eyelids fluttered ere they slowly opened. Baby blue eyes stared up at him before a smile curved the child’s lips and excitement tingled in her expression.

And something hard within Jarin burst into pieces.

Angry, he rose, grabbed his sword, and charged into the forest.

Several minutes later, he returned with a pocket full of nuts and berries and five eggs he’d found in a nest. Lady Cristiana sat by the simmering coals of the fire, Thebe in her lap, brushing the girl’s hair and singing a sweet song he’d not heard before. He swallowed a lump of emotion at the sight of madonna and child, the sweetness of it, the purity, the feminine allure of motherly love. Then she lifted her face to him, and the smile that lit it nearly caused him to bow before her and swear his fealty forever.

But that must never happen.

“A feast!” He strode toward them. “As promised.” He would employ humor and charm with this lady, and gruffness if he had to. Whate’er it took to keep thoughts of anything more than a simple dalliance from his mind. And his heart!

After cracking the eggs into one of the cups, he broke the bread into pieces, dipped it in the yolks, and handed them to the lady, along with a selection of berries and nuts spread upon a leafy plate.

“Feast, indeed, Sir Jarin. You are a man of many talents.”

“I’ve learned to fend for myself.” He kicked dirt into the coals as he tossed a handful of nuts and berries into his mouth. The meaty sweetness lured further growls from his stomach, but a more substantial meal would have to wait.

The eerie, shrill call of a raven tainted the joyful morning birdsong. Odd. Jarin studied their surroundings, listening for any sound that shouldn’t be there. Naught but the flutter of leaves in the wind, the buzz of insects, and chirp of birds met his ears. Shaking it off, he plopped to the ground and grabbed a hunk of bread. They’d have to find supplies soon, for this would not last until the morrow.

Not with the way the child was devouring what Cristiana put before her. She put berry after berry into her little mouth, and when she looked up and saw Jarin, she smiled so wide, pieces of berries dotted her white teeth as juice slipped down her lips.

He couldn’t help but chuckle, and Cristiana joined him. Their eyes met, the gaiety of the moment causing a bond between them he would do anything to avoid.

He averted his gaze to the child. “You like the berries, little one?”

“Aye, Jarn. Welishious.” She took a cup from Lady Cristiana and gulped down the sweet water.

He smiled at her mispronunciation, then looked at Cristiana. “Jarn?”

Shrugging, her eyes twinkled with mirth. “She has her own language, this one.” Withdrawing the cup, she handed the child another piece of bread. A crumb sat upon the lady’s lower lip, and Jarin reached over and brushed it off with his thumb.

At the intimate gesture, her eyes widened for a moment, and she pressed a finger to her lips, her gaze searching his. She thinks of our kiss.

As did he. As he had continually through the long night.

“Here.” He moved the remainder of his bread and fruit before Thebe. “You can have my share, wee one.”

Cristiana stared at him oddly. “You give me your cloak and now your food. I won’t hear of it, Sir Jarin. You must eat as well.”

“Eat, Jarn.” Thebe took a berry in her chubby hands, rose, and headed for his mouth. He opened it at the last minute, and she dropped it in.

“Thank you, my lady.” He dipped his head toward her, and Cristiana laughed.

Thebe returned for a nut and repeated the action, giggling this time when he promptly opened his mouth at her approach.

“You will make a good father someday, Sir Jarin.” Lady Cristiana stood and brushed off her skirts.

“I never intend to bind myself to such a duty.” He regretted the words ere they left his lips, along with their tone, meant only to repulse his own foolish desire.

“Whatever do you mean? Do you not wish to wed someday and have children to carry on your name?”

“I do not.” He gathered his cloak from the ground, put it on, and then held hers up for her. “’Tis not a name which perforce needs to carry on.”

The emotions that crossed her face could not be discerned. And he was quite good at discerning female emotions. Sorrow, shock, fury. Definitely fury.

Grabbing her cloak from him, she put it on herself, then stood before him and poked a finger at his chest. “You dare to kiss me when you have no intention of making an offer?”

Jarin swallowed down a lump of guilt and opened his mouth to answer when a low, ferocious growl filled the air, silencing the birds, and prickling the hair on his arms.

The rumbling snarl continued, grew louder, and was soon joined by others….coming from all around them.

Wolves.

♥♥♥

Cristiana’s anger drowned out whate’er sound alerted Sir Jarin, for he diverted his attention from her and set a firm gaze upon their surroundings. His entire body stiffened like the trunk of a tree, and she realized he would hear no more of her arguments even should she shout them in his ear.

Challenger whinnied and began pawing the ground from his spot where Sir Jarin had tied him to a branch.

That’s when she, too, heard the growls, rising out of the mist, curling around the trees. Reaching for Thebe, she swept her into her arms and stood frozen in fear beside Sir Jarin. He pushed them both behind him and drew his sword.

Not a good sign for whate’er was coming their way. In truth, she already knew. ’Twas the ferocious wolves that had nearly attacked them ere they reached the monastery.

How did the beasts find them? What did they want? Were they even wolves? For her sister had said otherwise. Either way, whether flesh or spirit, how could Sir Jarin defeat them all?

The growling grew louder, deeper, more malevolent. Thebe whimpered and hid her face within Cristiana’s cloak.

Leaves parted. Black, fur-covered faces emerged one by one, dozens of them, with sharp slit-like eyes and mouths wide, baring white fangs and salivating tongues.

Challenger snorted and whinnied, pawing the ground and shaking his head back and forth. No sooner did his reins loosen from the tree than he bolted into the thicket and disappeared.

Their horse gone!

Not a single wolf chased him. Which meant they were after other prey.

’Twas not the way she thought to die—mauled to shreds by ferocious beasts. Terror spiked through her veins. Would it hurt? Would she feel their fangs dig deep into her flesh? Or would she become numb with fear? Still the wolves crept closer, more and more materializing from the greenery, like ghouls from a forested underworld.

She gripped Thebe closer, terror whipping her thoughts into a cyclone, with only one remaining—one horrifying thought. Thebe. She could not let this child face such a painful and frightening death. She was but a babe. Oh, God. Please!

“One, two, three…” She could hear Sir Jarin’s heavy breathing, feel the tension spinning tight around him.

The closest wolf snapped its jowls, growling in anticipation, and sending spittle through the air.

A stench of rotted flesh soured in her nose. She couldn’t move, couldn’t think, couldn’t speak, or she’d surely scream with her last breath and run with all her might. “Four, five…”

Thebe began to cry.

Jarin finally spoke. “I’ll take on as many as I can. When I do, run.”

“I will not leave you,” she returned, her voice trembling.

He snapped his gaze to her, fire in his eyes. “You will do as I say!”

Even should she wish to obey him, she could no longer feel her legs. Daring a glance over her shoulder, she spotted wolves approaching from behind. Nowhere to run. “Six, seven…”

More wolves entered the clearing, their dark eyes locked upon the three of them, almost humanlike in the hatred she saw within them.

Flesh or spirit? She searched her memory for the story Alexia had told her. How had she rid herself of them?

The Spear! Lord help her. She’d forgotten all about it. Crouching to the ground, Thebe still in her arms, she placed her hand over the spot on her leg where the artifact was strapped.

“Lord, please protect us from this evil. In Christ’s name!”

The lead wolf leapt onto Jarin, his teeth sinking through his leather cloak and into his arm.

Cristiana screamed. Thebe wailed.

The sun abandoned them, along with all hope, as dark clouds roiled across the sky above. Shadows as dark as the wolves lurked about the clearing, cloaking it in deep despair.

Jarin flung the beast away while thrusting his blade through another one. It yelped in pain as more advanced, surrounding them within a barricade of fangs and claws.

Leveling his sword before him, Sir Jarin awaited their charge, bravely, stoutly.

Tears slipped down Cristiana’s cheeks.

White light flashed. The brightness blinded Cristiana. Air crackled like fire. A wolf’s yelp, more growls. White light again. Cristiana closed her eyes, clinging tightly to Thebe, who had ceased her wailing.

Again the stench of rotted meat, save this time, ’twas more akin to burning flesh.

Jarin gasped.

Cristiana opened her eyes. Another bolt of silver light blazed from above and struck one of the wolves. The beast disappeared into a powdery mist. Again and again, white beams flared all around them, each one striking a wolf and transforming it into dust. Thunder bellowed. The ground shook. Thebe resumed her screaming.

The rest of the wolves, not yet struck, turned and darted back into the forest.

Sir Jarin stood like a statue, his bloody blade before him, the only sign of life the rise and fall of his chest.

Holding Thebe close, Cristiana prayed she was not dreaming, that the wolves were indeed gone and would not return.

Spears of sparkling sunlight poked through the dark clouds above, pushing them back and dispelling the shadows below.

All was silent. All was still. The birds began their joyful tunes yet again.

Jarin sheathed his blade, the chime echoing across the clearing.

Thebe peeked out from beneath Cristiana’s cloak. “Gone?”

“Aye, darling.” Cristiana’s legs wobbled, and she stumbled slightly but caught herself. “They are gone. God be praised.”

♥♥♥

Sir Jarin finally turned to face Lady Cristiana and Thebe. He hadn’t wanted to look at them during the ordeal, hadn’t wanted to see the terror on their faces, watch as wolves devoured their flesh. Hadn’t wanted that to be his last vision ere departing this world. Now, as he took them in, unharmed and looking more beautiful than ever, he finally allowed relief to flow through him.

He allowed something else too—his arm to fling about the woman and bring her and babe close. She fell against him, leaning on his chest as if it brought her all the comfort and strength she needed. If only she knew how terrified he’d been. He’d been trained by the best knights in the realm, had fought in dozens of battles facing many enemies who resembled beasts, but nothing had prepared him for that hellish onslaught.

He held the two girls close. “’Tis over now. We are safe.” At least he hoped, though he kept an ear tuned for the wolves’ return.

Thebe glanced up at him and tugged on his beard. “Jarn.”

Against his better judgment, he kissed her on the forehead and smiled. Before the child could further worm her way into his heart, he released them and glanced up. “The storm is past. ’Twas fortuitous it came along when it did.”

Lady Cristiana breathed out a sigh. “You jest, sir! ’Twas no storm at all, and that lightning—if that is what it was—hailed from God, Himself. I touched the Spear and prayed. And He rescued us.” She looked above as if she could find the Almighty and thank Him personally.

“A mere storm, my lady.” Jarin glanced in the direction their horse had gone, then sought his pack on the ground.

“I suppose those wolves were mere wolves as well,” she retorted.

“What else would they be?” His tone lacked conviction, for he could not deny what he’d seen. Even now, as he looked around, no carcasses littered the clearing. Yet if he accepted that the beasts had not been real animals, but instead demons conjured up from the otherworld, then he’d have to admit there was an otherworld, an eternal realm wherein both good and evil existed—God and the devil, heaven and hell.

Ergo, if he admitted that God had come to their rescue, then he’d have to believe God loathed him, for He’d never answered any of Jarin’s prayers. Hence, he would push the incident into the realm of the unknown and unexplainable, a place getting quite crowded since he’d met Lady Alexia and her sister Cristiana.

“We must leave posthaste.” He gathered his sack, stuffed the remaining scrap of bread into it, then picked up her sack as well.

“We have no horse.” Lady Cristiana came to stand beside him. “However will we…” her voice trailed off in despondency.

Taking Thebe from her, he plunked the girl atop his shoulders yet again and gave Lady Cristiana a wink of reassurance of which he felt not a speck. No sense in alarming the lady further. She’d had enough fear for one day. “We shall walk until we can find another horse,” he said as if the feat were as easy as plucking a flower from a spring meadow.

She frowned as he started forward, brushing aside branches as he went. Her footsteps followed. Thebe giggled above him and began playing with his hair.

They had no horse, no money, no food, and they were being chased by a troop of well-trained soldiers. Not to mention an evil he dared not admit. In truth, the odds were not in their favor, but still, nothing he had not encountered before and overcome.

Yet never with two precious lives in his care.