Название | Warrior Of Fire |
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Автор произведения | Michelle Willingham |
Жанр | Сказки |
Серия | Mills & Boon Historical |
Издательство | Сказки |
Год выпуска | 0 |
isbn | 9781474006361 |
The cool tone of his voice bothered her, for he behaved as if she was a burden he didn’t want. ‘If you are too busy with your duties for King Henry, you needn’t trouble yourself on my behalf. I can go alone.’
His expression shifted. ‘You couldn’t last more than a mile, chérie.’
‘I made it this far,’ she said quietly. ‘And believe me when I say that no man will force me to marry the Ard-Righ. I will go to the west and live out the remainder of my days in peace.’
‘I was leaving the abbey to return to my men,’ he said gruffly. ‘I’ll take you with me.’
But although she ought to be grateful for his offer, she sensed that he had his own motives.
‘Eat,’ he repeated, holding out the bundle.
She glanced at the food he offered and noticed that he’d roasted a rabbit. So that was where he’d gone—to hunt for meat, as he’d promised before. Her stomach growled, and she couldn’t stop herself from reaching for the hot food. It was as if she could never get enough to eat, after all the years of suffering.
‘You need not bring me very far,’ she said quietly. ‘Laochre is hardly more than a day’s journey. If you bring me there, the MacEgans will see to my care after that.’
It was a reasonable solution and one that would not trouble him any more than was necessary. She waited for him to agree, but those green eyes narrowed upon her. Instead, he seemed disinterested in her suggestion.
‘Or I could escort you to the west, if that is what you want.’ He spoke with no emotion, his gaze not meeting her eyes.
Now that, she didn’t believe for a moment. Raine de Garenne had admitted that he was occupied with the king’s orders. He would have to return to his soldiers and commander. Nothing had changed, so far as she could tell.
‘Where are your men?’
He shrugged. ‘They are camped east of here. But I could delay my return to them.’
Her senses went on alert, and she didn’t at all believe he would journey with her, out of the goodness of his heart. ‘You want something from me, don’t you?’
He leaned forward and broke off a piece of the meat, his hand brushing against hers. She jolted at the contact, and his expression fixed upon her. ‘Perhaps I do.’
Her mind flashed back to the kiss, though she knew that was not the reason. Her cheeks reddened, and she asked, ‘What reason would bring you from your duties to act as my escort?’
Raine picked up another piece of meat and guided it to her lips. The simple gesture undid her good sense, crumbling away her thoughts. His thumb edged her mouth, reminding her of the shared embrace.
She chewed and swallowed, feeling a mild panic rising. Was he trying to seduce her? Had she inadvertently suggested that she wanted more than a kiss?
‘Not that,’ she insisted, returning his stare. He didn’t smile in teasing, nor did he react. ‘If you’re wanting a reward, silver pieces are all I can give to you.’
‘You have knowledge of the kings of Éireann, have you not?’
The pieces fell into place then. He could gain permission from his commander to escort her west if she gave him political information. He wanted her to share what she knew, so he could use the information against his enemies. But she was not a traitor.
‘I can tell you nothing,’ she argued. ‘All I know is what I have heard from my father. My knowledge would be of no use to you.’ And even if she did know something, she would never betray her countrymen to the Norman army.
Raine leaned in closer on the bed, balancing his weight upon both hands. At his nearness, she wanted to back away, but she forced herself not to be intimidated by him.
‘Your father made certain you were taught the Norman tongue, didn’t he? Because he wanted you to be able to negotiate between the Normans and the Irish. A useful skill for the Queen of Éireann.’
‘And for speaking to you,’ she countered. Her posture stiffened. ‘There is nothing I can tell you. And if that is what you want, then I must go to Laochre alone.’ She had no desire to reveal information that was never meant for a Norman’s ears.
‘You haven’t the strength for that journey,’ he argued.
Although he was right, she saw no alternative. ‘I will do what I must.’
‘Your father’s men will find you,’ he predicted. ‘And they will force you to return to the High King for your marriage.’
Perhaps they would try, but she wasn’t about to surrender. ‘I will never wed a man like the Ard-Righ.’ She ate more of the rabbit, sating her hunger. ‘Or any man, for that matter.’
‘Your father won’t give up until you’re found.’
‘He can try to find me,’ was her reply, though she knew it was true. Her father would not stop searching for her, no matter how long it took. Brian was a stubborn, proud man who delighted in having his own way—but he did love her. He wanted her to be Queen of Éireann, for it reflected well upon him.
Raine sat back, sharing the meat with her. It seemed that the more she ate, the hungrier she became. It had been so long since eating had not caused her stomach to seize with cramping. She savoured the food, and then he unfolded the bundle again, revealing dried apples.
‘Where did you get these?’ she asked, startled to see the fruit.
‘I found them stored within the kitchen.’ He gave them to her, and she was grateful for the fruit, almost greedy at the taste of it. But as she devoured the apples, she was reminded that the monks who had once lived here were now gone. It felt even more like they were trespassing like scavengers.
‘What happened to the priests who lived here?’ she asked him.
‘They died in the fire.’ He offered nothing else, but the dark tone suggested that he felt responsible for the deaths. She stopped eating, studying his expression in the hopes of glimpsing the truth. He claimed that he was a Norman warrior, and she suspected he was a man accustomed to killing.
And yet, there was an empty bleakness in his eyes, like a haunted man. As if he didn’t enjoy killing, the way a warrior might. She didn’t know what to think of that.
Why had he returned to this place? What interest would a Norman soldier have in an abandoned abbey? She couldn’t understand it.
‘Do you want more to eat?’ he asked her.
She shook her head, recognising his desire to avoid speaking of the priests. So be it. Likely it was better if she didn’t know what had happened here.
‘I intend to leave tomorrow at dawn,’ she told him. And as far as she was concerned, she didn’t need his help—especially if he was looking for information she could not give.
‘It would be better to travel at nightfall,’ he countered. ‘It’s too easy for them to track you. They won’t be far away, and we would be unable to avoid them.’
We? So he was still thinking of accompanying her. She regarded him with a frown, for she hadn’t agreed to that. ‘They are travelling towards Tara, and I am moving in the opposite direction.’ She wanted it clear that she didn’t need him to escort her. He could return to his men, if needed.
Raine evaded her searching gaze and answered, ‘The High King’s men have split up to search for you. If we do not wait and let them travel farther, then they will find us.’
Carice didn’t know why he was insisting on helping her, but it was time to be clear with him. ‘I would be grateful if you would take me to Laochre,’ she said, ‘but I cannot give you information about the kings of Éireann. I know nothing, and even if I did, I would not betray them.’ She