Chapter 28

 

Jarin rode the horses fast and hard throughout the night, unsure whether ’twas his anger at Quinn, shock at Lady Cristiana’s kindness, or fear of the bishop’s army that made him long to escape and leave everything behind.

Even leave the lady herself, for every moment he spent with her, he lost all sense and reason. She enchanted him, mesmerized him, luring him closer and closer like a flopping fish hooked on a line, unable to free himself, only in the end, to find himself hopelessly tangled in her charms. He could not allow that to happen.

She’d rode beside him all night, with the babe in her arms, nary a complaint spilling from her lips. Now, as the hint of dawn teased the horizon, he glanced her way and guilt weighed on him for the exhaustion lining her lovely features. Thankfully, Thebe was asleep in her arms—arms that no doubt ached from holding the child.

Turning in his saddle, he glanced behind them. No sign of soldiers. No sign of much of anything all night save owls and a fox that had glared at them from the brush. He must find a place to stop and rest, at least for a short while. Mayhap he could forage for some fruit or nuts for them to eat. Regardless, the sooner they were on their way, the better, for the bishop’s soldiers now had a scent and a trail to follow.

The lady glanced his way, and her gentle smile reached up to her sleepy eyes, dazzling him. And, against his will, he found everything within him wanting to protect and cherish this precious woman all his days. “I will find a place to rest anon, my lady.”

“Thank you,” she whispered ere opening her eyes wider and glancing over the countryside. Morning mist hovered over the green rolling hills, sparkling in the rising sun. The scent of horse flesh, earth, and lilacs showered over Jarin, awakening his senses to a new day, even as exhaustion tugged upon his eyes. He would have to find sleep later. For now, he must seek safety above all else.

Safety. He had thought Quinn’s home would be such. His jaw tightened. He couldn’t have been more wrong. Bosh! What a fool he’d been to trust him, to believe he was the same generous lad he’d once known. Life had been cruel to Quinn. Nay! Quinn’s choices had caused the sad predicament in which he found himself. His gambling, drinking, and whoring had robbed him of his wealth, respect, and oddly…his happiness. Vak! His philandering had nearly cost him his life.

Save for Lady Cristiana D’Clere.

But hadn’t that been their troth to each other in that dark wine cellar at Tegimen Abbey—that they would spend their lives seeking out the pleasure of coin, drink, and women, and ne’er allow themselves to be burdened with the responsibilities of life or the rules of an overbearing God? Alas, Quinn had done just that. But where had it gotten him?

Something to ponder later, for Thebe woke up, stretched in Cristiana’s arms and smiled brightly when she spotted Jarin.

And every hard thing within him melted.

Cursing himself, he averted his gaze and spotted a copse of trees up ahead where they could hide. ’Twas difficult enough to resist the allure of Lady Cristiana, but must he also battle the innocent admiration of the most adorable little girl he’d ever met?

♥♥♥

Cristiana handed the best part of the single nectarine Jarin had found on the ground to Thebe, whilst she did her best to nibble on the bruised part. ’Twas all they had, for no further fruit grew on the tree. Indeed, it appeared withered and diseased.

Jarin had tucked them safely within a thicket of trees and brush while he went off in search of water. She hated that she felt lost and alone without him nearby. She hated her utter and complete dependence on him. More than either of those, she hated the way her insides quivered at the mere sight of him.

Weak fool. Why couldn’t she be more like her sister?

Finishing the foul fruit, she withdrew the Spear from her pocket, lifted her skirts, and proceeded to bind it tightly around her thigh once again. Thebe was engaged following an ant trail, or no doubt the girl would assail Cristiana with a dozen questions about what she was doing. Cristiana tightened the binding and pressed a finger over the precious relic. It had saved them more than once. Them, not her. For where had its power been when Quinn was about to ravish her? If Sir Jarin had not burst in at that moment, would the Spear have protected her? Or mayhap, she was not worthy of its protection. Mayhap her job was to use it to help others and then return it to her sister, who would make better use of its power.

Settling her skirts back down around her ankles, she opened her small pack and pulled out a comb. “Come, Thebe, allow me to rid your hair of those tangles.”

The little girl lifted bright blue eyes to Cristiana, holding up her finger where an ant circled, seeking an escape. Her giggle seemed to swipe away all the terror of their predicament, if only for a second.

“He tickles, Cristi!”

Cristiana smiled. “Do put him down to join his friends. We wouldn’t want him to get lost.”

Frowning, the little girl did as she was told, then scooted closer to Cristiana and turned her back to her. “Like we are? I still hungry.”

Sorrow stole the joy of the moment. “Nay. We are not lost. We will soon be home.” She began combing Thebe’s hair.

“My home?”

“Your new home, darling.” Cristiana leaned down to kiss her cheek then resumed her combing.

“Ouch!” Thebe jerked forward, her hand flying to her head.

“I’m sorry.” Cristiana sighed. “Come. I’ll be gentler.” How the little girl’s hair could become such a mass of tangles in one day was beyond her.

The rustling of leaves sounded, followed by footsteps, spiking alarm through Cristiana that instantly softened when Sir Jarin’s tall figure appeared, bearing a pouch of water, a handful of some sort of treasure, and a smile on his face that would suffocate her if she allowed it.

She wouldn’t. She continued combing Thebe’s hair, but the little girl shot to her feet and darted toward the knight, who once again knelt to take her in his arms. He squeezed her tight, the look on his face—one of pure joy—warmed everything within Cristiana. But then his expression changed, and something akin to sorrow followed by frustration trampled his features ere he nudged the girl back and stood. His eyes grazed over Cristiana, a myriad of unidentifiable emotions swirling within them. Approaching, he handed her the pouch of water and assisted her to her feet.

“’Tis all I could find.” He opened his hand to reveal a dozen or so walnuts, already removed from their shells.

“Take what you want, Sir Jarin, and give the rest to Thebe.” Cristiana knelt to give the girl water.

“You need your strength as well, my lady, if you are to care for her.” He lowered to sit upon a fallen tree and plopped a nut into his mouth ere handing one to Thebe.

“I ate a nectarine,” Cristiana replied, taking a swig of water.

Thebe sat cross-legged on the dirt beside Jarin and happily consumed the nuts he handed her, the remainder of them, from what Cristiana could see. So, the knight did have a tender spot for the child. Against her will, she smiled. Jarin must have noticed for he rose and went to tend their horses. “We should leave posthaste and find a safe place to sleep and food to eat.”

Thebe promptly stood and followed him. “Still hungry, Jarn.” She clung to his breeches and gazed up at him as if he were a king and could produce a feast with a snap of his fingers.

“Come, Thebe, leave Sir Jarin alone.” Cristiana beckoned to the girl, but she was having none of it. And despite his odd behavior when he’d held her moments ago, he reached down and gathered the girl in his arms. Giggling, she nestled against him as he brushed curls from her face. “Soon, little one. We will eat again soon.” Then setting her down before Cristiana, he tapped her on the nose. “Allow Lady Cristiana to finish combing your hair. A princess must look her best ere she travels.”

Beaming from ear to ear and nodding her assent, Thebe sat back down before Cristiana with the obedience of a saint.

Cristiana frowned, lowered to her knees, and began combing the girl’s hair again. If Sir Jarin intended to leave them after he brought them to Luxley, or worse, ignore them once his mission was completed, ’twould not do for Thebe to become so attached. Why, the girl gazed at him as if he were her father! And Cristiana did not wish to see the dear child’s heart broken.

Nor did she wish to see her own suffer such a fate.

Thus, she did her best to ignore Sir Jarin as he poured water for the horses to drink and readied them to continue the journey.

Once back on the trail, she continued in her attempts to not stare at the knight, to not admire the way he sat tall in his saddle, his hand ready on the pommel of his sword, alert eyes scanning their surroundings, ear cocked for any sound of danger. ’Twas all for her and Thebe’s protection, for he was not the one the bishop and Sir Walter sought. No doubt he had not expected such trouble when he agreed to the mission. Then why did he not abandon her like everyone else in her life had done?

They urged the horses into a gallop, which they maintained for most of the morning ere alternating betwixt a trot and walk. Sir Jarin made no attempt at conversation, merely glanced occasionally at Cristiana and Thebe, offering a glimmer of a smile and an unreadable emotion on his face.

Cristiana fought the exhaustion threatening to topple her from the horse as the world flew past in a blur of greens, blues, and browns, blasting her with wind tainted with the scents of fresh grass, wildflowers, and horseflesh. When she dared to close her eyes for a mere moment, the sun dappled light over her eyelids as it rose to its crest and enveloped her in a blanket of warmth before it began to sink again. Now, as it sat a hand’s breath over the western horizon, Cristiana drew a deep breath and shook her head in an effort to keep awake.

“There’s a village up ahead. We will stop there for the night, my lady.” Jarin’s tone was one of deep concern, and it caused her to open her eyes fully and glance his way.

He studied her. “I grant you, I have never met a woman as strong as you, nor one who did not perforce shower me with idle chatter or complaints, the latter of which you have every right.”

A compliment? Indeed, it took Cristiana aback for a moment. “I dare not ask what type of ladies you normally associate with.” Her tone was mocking, defying the warmth his words spread throughout her.

“None like you, I assure you.” He directed his gaze forward again.

Smoke rose from a small cluster of buildings up ahead as they slowed their horses to a walk.

“Do you believe the bishop’s men have lost our trail?”

“I can only hope, my lady.”

“Yet you have seen no hint of them this day.”

“Nay.” He faced her again. “You have the Spear?”

“Aye. Bound to my leg once again.”

He glanced at Thebe, asleep in Cristiana’s arms. “What do you make of the old woman?”

The aged lady who had appeared and disappeared at will, healed Thebe’s finger, and brought back the Spear to Cristiana? How the relic had come into her possession, Cristiana could not fathom. “Thebe said she was an angel.”

Jarin snorted. “Thebe is two years old. Mere fantasies of a child.”

His lack of faith irked her sorely. “It may surprise you to know, Sir Jarin, that innocent children oft see things in the Spirit ere the world infects them with its logic and deflates their hope.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “But an angel? Bosh, I’d sooner believe she was one of Quinn’s spies.”

“Would Quinn give me back the Spear if he knew the power it possessed?” Nor would a mere servant speak as the woman had. The power lives within you, child. Where God is. Not in a piece of metal, she had said with such assurance and love, Cristiana had no alternative but to believe she was not from this world. Still, the message niggled her, poking and prodding her weak faith, making her uncomfortable even now as she pondered it.

They rode on, nearing the village. Though the light from the sun was still bright, not a single person was in sight, no farmers working in the fields, no wagons carrying goods into and out of the village, no town criers could be heard, no laborers or travelers moving about.

Something was amiss.

Jarin grabbed the reins of Cristiana’s horse and halted both animals.

“Pray, what is it?” she asked.

Jarin’s bearded jaw stiffened as he scanned their surroundings. “’Tis the smell of death.”