Kim Iverson Headlee Read online

  “Kendra, I am Sir Robert,” he whispered.

  The silence stretched so long that he began to believe she hadn’t heard him. As he opened his mouth to repeat his confession, she tipped her head back and loosed a peal of laughter that echoed throughout the chamber.

  “A tempting fantasy…but no. You are Sir Lancelot, and I am the faithless whore Guinevere. It shall end as badly for us as it did for them, I think.” She pivoted toward him and laid her hand on his cheek. “But I do thank you for making me feel loved. Cherished. And happy, even if only for the briefest while.”

  Alain drew a deep breath and held it as he pondered how to respond. But protesting was pointless as long as he bore no proof of his identity to show her. Expelling his breath through pursed lips, he wrapped his arms around her. She leaned into his embrace. In moments her breathing softened and slowed, and her limbs felt leaden against him. He gently moved her onto the makeshift bed, hating that he had no right to join her there.

  In two languages he cursed himself for the fool he was. As he rose and groped toward the cavern’s entrance, he resolved to see Kendra safely home and prove his identity to her.

  And to accept whatever consequences befell him as a result.

  Chapter 11

  GRUNTING AND SWEATING, the next morning, Alain heaved the chest into place atop the others and stepped back to survey his idea.

  “Will it work?” Raw desperation darkened Kendra’s tone.

  Gazing at her tense face and disheveled hair and garments, he grieved to see the toll her ordeal had taken upon her angelic beauty. He swept an errant golden lock from her cheek, and she leaned into his touch. “I hope so.”

  He climbed to the top of the stack, which put him chest high with the hole he’d chosen to attack. With the seax he poked into the crevices around the hole and pried loose a few fist-size rocks. Not a bad start, but even if he managed to enlarge it downward, the much shorter Kendra would still need help to reach it.

  Concentrate on overcoming one obstacle at a time, he reminded himself as he set to work.

  They fell into a routine, with him dislodging rocks and her catching and stacking them, working as silently as possible to reduce the risk of being overheard.

  Minutes blended into hours with the mind-numbing repetition. He looked down at the pile and felt a surge of satisfaction at how large it had grown. Testing the hole’s width with his hands, he judged it a tight squeeze for him, though she ought to make it easily. He motioned for her to come up.

  To his surprise, she held up a hand, retrieved the near-empty food sack, and scurried from the chamber. Shrugging, Alain set about digging out a few more chunks. She returned with the hound in tow, using the sack twisted into a lead. At the gallery’s entrance, the dog braced its feet, whining.

  “Come on, you silly beast,” she coaxed. “Don’t you see we mean to free you?”

  She opened her hand to display the last strip of dried beef and waved it before the dog’s nose. When it stretched to take the food, she stepped back a pace, murmuring words of encouragement. The dog whined again, but Kendra remained insistent.

  When hunger overcame fear, the hound entered the chamber. Kendra kept backing up, and the dog kept pursuing, until she reached the stack of chests. The dog sat before her as she tore off a piece and offered it in the palm of her hand. With another piece, she encouraged the hound to stand with his paws braced on a chest in the stack.

  Realizing her intent, Alain grasped the dog to haul it up, feeling a rush of panic as the chests shifted and his balance faltered. But the dog must have sensed its opportunity and found purchase for its paws, scrabbling to the top. Alain boosted the animal into the hole and watched it wriggle to freedom.

  Frowning, he turned an ear toward the hole, trying to discern whether the dog was barking at intruders or expressing its joy in being released. He decided on the latter and signaled Kendra to ascend.

  Her smile could have lit the cavern.

  Upon tucking her skirts into her belt, she followed the hound’s path. Alain thrust out his hand to help her up the rest of the way, which she accepted with obvious gratitude.

  His hands settled on her waist in preparation for lifting her to the hole, and he paused. Once they left this cave, he would have to make good on his vow to free her from the king’s command to marry Sir Robert de Bellencombre.

  It was the last thing on earth he wanted to do, and yet after having failed to fulfill promises to those he loved, failing in this task was not an option.

  He made the mistake of gazing too deeply into her alluring eyes, and a wave of longing crested and broke within his heart. Heedless of propriety, he sampled her sweet lips one last time, a kiss she returned with more passion than he deserved.

  As she broke contact, unmistakable pain flashed across her face—pain he had caused her by being too bold, too male, and, ultimately, too Norman.

  To say nothing of his being too deceptive and too downright stupid. Claws of self-loathing rent his soul.

  “Alain? What have I done?”

  He shook his head. “Nothing.”

  I have wronged you, dearest Kendra, by deceiving you and loving you and wanting you so much that I ache to even look at you. But he couldn’t voice that confession, not here, not now; not ever.

  After turning her to face the rock, he gripped her waist and lifted her into the world where they never could be anything beyond polite acquaintances.

  If giving her up was the right choice to make, he mused wretchedly as he watched her crawl through the hole, then why did he feel as if he had committed an unpardonable sin?

  KENDRA EMERGED and stood, arms outspread, yearning to proclaim her freedom to the four winds.

  Mindful that she and Alain wouldn’t be free until they quit this awful place and mindful that any noise could draw unwanted attention, she refrained.

  Of the hound there remained no sign, though she wished it Godspeed and a belated, though no less heartfelt, thanks.

  The sound of scraping made her bend down to see Alain attempting to widen the hole. His blade removed no more than a few pebbles.

  “Will you be able to make it?”

  “I hope so,” came his grim reply.

  With a grunt, he hoisted himself into the hole and began pushing himself through. But before his broad shoulders could win free, they stuck fast.

  Horrified, she knelt and clawed at the rock, trying to dislodge stones from the outside, but her fingers were useless against the solid mass.

  She dusted her hands with a handful of fine, dry dirt to improve her grip, grabbed Alain’s arms at the wrists, braced one foot on the rock face, gritted her teeth, and tugged for all she was worth.

  Wonder of wonders, his shoulder moved!

  So did her foot. She lost her grip and began to fall, flailing her arms in a desperate bid to keep her balance.

  A pair of sturdy arms encircled her from behind. She screamed.

  “Well, you do seem to need rescuing after all, dear cousin,” said a familiar voice as he pushed her upright.

  “Nay, I do not.” She cared far less about how Ulfric had learned of her plight than about freeing the man she loved. “But Alain does. Help me, please!”

  “Just ‘Alain,’ Kendra? You seem to have become altogether too familiar with your visiting Norman squire.”

  His patronizing tone raised her ire. “What I choose to call him is irrelevant, Ulfric. What is relevant is that he needs assistance.”

  “Thank you most kindly, Lady Kendra, but no.”

  Grimacing, Alain forced himself through the hole, tearing his tunic and scraping his shoulders. She longed to learn whether her healing touch still worked, but with Ulfric in attendance, she didn’t dare try. From behind Alain came a muffled crash, doubtless from his having kicked over the stack of chests.

  Ulfric cocked an eyebrow. “What was that?”

  Straightening, Alain brushed off his attire, ignoring the scrapes, his demeanor cool. “You would never believe wh
at we have endured, Thane Ulfric.”

  “Try me, squire.”

  She stepped between them lest they both break their foolish necks by brawling on the slope. “Tales of our ordeal can wait until after Sir Alain”—she directed a warning look at Ulfric—“and I have recovered.”

  “Sir Alain, now, is it?” Ulfric’s grin exuded arrogance. “Did the bandit chief knight you? You seem to be wearing his colors.”

  Alain glared at Ulfric. “I trust it is safe for the Lady Kendra to depart?”

  “Quite safe. You and Sir Ruaud seem to have done a commendable job of obliterating this band of troublemakers.”

  “Sir Ruaud? You have seen him?” She could hear the hope in Alain’s tone.

  Ulfric stroked his chin, shaking his head. “I cannot say that I have.”

  Kendra shot her cousin an inquisitive glance. “Are you certain, Ulfric?”

  He draped an arm about her shoulders. “Unless one of my men has found him among the corpses while we have been conversing, no. Sir Ruaud is not here.”

  She got the distinct impression that Ulfric was lying, but why would he mislead Alain about his friend? With nothing more solid than suspicion, however, she couldn’t pursue the matter.

  “Come, my dear,” Ulfric continued, steering her down the path. “Thornhill shall be at your disposal while you recover.”

  “Sir Alain too?”

  Ulfric tossed a glance back at Alain, who was following them, head bowed as if he was making a one-way trip to the gallows. “You too are well come.”

  It grieved her to observe that the invitation did little to lift Alain’s spirits.

  ULFRIC’S ESTATE couldn’t come close to Edgarburh in size, but in luxury Thornhill compensated for the lack of acreage. Vast tapestries hung from every wall, and Alain could scarcely take a step without bumping into an expensive chair, table, bench, or chest. Much of it reminded him of the bower where he’d found Kendra, and it awakened his suspicions.

  No. His suspicions had awakened when Ulfric had so conveniently appeared to keep Kendra from tumbling down the hillside. Alain hadn’t stopped berating himself for allowing her to endanger herself for his sake.

  And yet her willingness to do so, with no apparent thought for her own peril, touched him more deeply than a thousand of her glorious kisses ever could.

  He sighed at the realization that memories of her would have to sustain him for the rest of his life.

  “Are you ill, Sir Alain?”

  He would have laid even odds that Ulfric’s solicitousness had been feigned for Kendra’s benefit.

  “I thank you for your concern, Thane Ulfric, but I shall live.”

  “Indeed.” Ulfric’s predatory grin made the hairs on Alain’s arms prickle.

  Their host clapped twice, and servants trooped in through doorways that led to side corridors or chambers. Ulfric entrusted Kendra into the care of several handmaidens, who spared shy glances and giggles for Alain before ushering their charge from the hall. He felt a wrenching in his chest, as though his heart had gone with her.

  Ulfric assigned the remaining manservant to Alain, giving him instructions to implement Alain’s every wish and to provide fresh clothing fit for Thornhill’s “noble Norman guest.” On Ulfric’s lips, the phrase sounded like an epithet.

  “Your generosity is most overwhelming, Thane Ulfric.”

  “I would be a poor host to do anything less,” said the thane, “for a guest who will be leaving so soon.”

  Alain cocked his head. “Am I?”

  “You should return to Edgarburh with news of Kendra’s rescue. Her father must be quite worried.”

  “True enough. But she is in no condition to travel.”

  “That’s why she shall stay here for as long as is needful.”

  Needful for whom? Alain fought to retain his civility.

  Upon pondering the thane’s suggestion, he decided it made sense. No doubt Waldron would be relieved to hear of his daughter’s rescue, and from Edgarburh Alain could dispatch a report about the outlaws to Regent Odo. There would be sufficient time for Alain to confess his misdeeds to Kendra once she arrived; no need to rush that eventuality. “Then if I may have the loan of one of your horses?”

  “For such a happy mission, of course.” Again that predatory grin dominated the thane’s face. “But first you must join us for our midday meal.” When Alain opened his mouth to protest, Ulfric raised a hand. “I insist.”

  INSIDE THE large, well-appointed guest chamber, which was situated too close to Ulfric’s quarters for Kendra’s liking, the handmaids’ inane chatter and giggling showed no signs of letting up, and it was threatening to drive her mad.

  What hurt the worst were questions and speculations directed to her about Alain.

  On all but the most basic questions, she demurred. It wouldn’t be seemly to cast the impression of knowing too much about someone who by all rights should be a stranger.

  And yet in the short time they had spent together, she had learned enough to realize…nay.

  What she felt for the man who had conquered her heart was nothing short of selfish desire. Indulging any further wouldn’t be fair to Del’s memory, and it wouldn’t be fair to Sir Robert. For, despite Alain’s claims, she needed to steel herself for the possibility that he might not succeed in convincing the king to belay his command.

  Most importantly, it wouldn’t be fair to Alain.

  By this time, the maidservants had finished bathing her, dressing her, applying cherry juice to her lips and crushed ochre powder to her cheeks, and combing the tangles from her damp hair. With a light veil settled over her head and secured with a slim gold circlet, she was beginning to feel human again.

  If indeed human could describe a woman who had lost the volition to love any other man.

  She rose from the stool and dismissed the women with her thanks. Alone at last, she closed the door and drifted back toward the bed. Wrapping an arm around the dark oak bedpost, she blinked hard to will away the welling tears.

  The door opened with a creak, and she heard tottering footsteps cross the floor, but she didn’t bother to acknowledge her visitor.

  “Well come, my poppet!”

  The familiar, aged voice made her turn. Ethel, Ulfric’s old nurse and a favorite from Kendra’s previous visits to Thornhill, was setting a tray upon a side table. Tendrils of steam curled from the mug, which doubtless held one of Ethel’s herbal concoctions.

  She couldn’t reach the woman fast enough and favored her with a long embrace. As Ethel patted her back, Kendra was reminded of her mother, and her sobs erupted.

  “My dearest poppet, you have had a bad turn these past few days, haven’t you?”

  Ethel gently but firmly disengaged Kendra and pulled a clean cloth from her sleeve. While Kendra used it to dry her eyes, Ethel inspected her with the intensity of an army commander.

  “You don’t know the half of it, Ethel.”

  Smiling enigmatically, Ethel grasped the mug and pressed it into Kendra’s hands. “I do know that I see a lovely young woman in love.”

  Kendra snorted and took a long swallow. The warm, honeyed liquid soothed her from the inside out. “An impossible love. A love that’s best forgotten.” She took another swallow and stared into the mug. “If I can.”

  “Listen to old Ethel, poppet.” She laid a cool, leathery hand on Kendra’s arm. “Passion fades, but if you well and truly love this man, then no matter what happens, you never will stop loving him.”

  It confirmed what Kendra had suspected. “Then so much the worse for us both, Ethel, for we can never wed.”

  As if the tisane had loosened her tongue, she proceeded to explain why.

  “Ah, poppet, love will find a way. It always does.”

  A lad entered with word that the midday meal was ready to be served, and that Thane Ulfric had requested the honor of Kendra’s presence.

  She followed the servants from the room, hoping with all her heart that Ethel was right.
/>   EVEN MORE so than being in the midst of battle, astride his warhorse and bedecked with every knightly trapping under heaven, Alain felt like a target. He tugged at the stiff, high collar of the crimson velvet tunic the servant had brought, wishing he could yank the accursed thing off and knowing that to do so would declare to his host an insult Alain wasn’t prepared to defend.

  Forebodings redoubled when he considered this meal. His every instinct warned him away, and yet his failure to attend wasn’t a viable option either.

  At least this event should afford him one final opportunity to see Kendra.

  A page, dressed in a linen tunic the same shade as Alain’s but featuring a gray wolf snarling upon the chest, entered to announce the meal. The lad bowed, but his self-discipline yielded to several long moments of gaping at what was probably the first Norman knight he’d ever seen.

  “We Normans do not eat children.” Alain broke into a grin. “Well, perhaps only the naughtiest ones. But I shall tell you a secret,” he whispered, drawing the lad closer. “Children do not taste very good.”

  That won a chuckle and a crooked grin. After another bow, the page scampered from the room.

  The manservant, burdened with the remains of Alain’s outlaw disguise and undergarments, gave Alain an approving nod and asked if he needed aught else. Alain declined, thanking him. The servant bowed as best he could and left.

  What Alain needed was a means to marry Kendra without forcing her to foreswear her vow. And under the roof of his chief rival, he stood even farther from solving this conundrum.

  With a final tug on the collar and offering a swift, silent prayer that he would survive whatever Ulfric might be devising, he strode from the chamber.