Promised to the Crusader. Anne Herries

man I was—not the man I am now,’ he said, voice gruff with emotion. ‘Give me no promises, lady. I do not ask them of you. I release you from the vow you made those many years gone.’

      ‘I do not wish to be released,’ Elaine said, but her voice was little more than a whisper, and in truth she was not sure what she felt. The scar was terrible and disfigured one half of his face, but she knew of unguents and cures that would help it, easing the pain and infection so that it would no longer be so inflamed. Nothing could make his beloved face as it had once been, but, if he would let her, she could ease the pain he must be feeling and heal the wound so the scar would not be so livid. It was not so much his appearance, but his manner, the distance between them, that made her hesitant. ‘If you wish me for your wife, I should be honoured, sir.’

      A nerve twitched in his throat, his eyes narrowing as they dwelt on her face. ‘It is too soon to speak of these things, lady. For the moment I must see you safe to your home—and then I must avenge my father. I am not sure whether you knew that Newark was his enemy. My father slighted him once in some way, defied him and would not bend the knee to such an evil man. Newark never forgot or forgave him. He had him set upon by knaves and beaten to death, as if he were less than the lowest churl. I shall seek him out as soon as I am ready and avenge my father’s death like a knight.’

      ‘He is so rich and powerful,’ Elaine said fearfully. ‘You will need more men before you can challenge the earl.’

      ‘This I know. These men are loyal to my uncle and will be loyal to me for as long as I need them, but I shall gather a powerful army and I will bring Newark to his knees somehow.’

      Elaine’s heart ached for his pain, physical and mental, but she could not take him in her arms for she felt he would reject her.

      ‘Then I wish you luck, sir,’ she said.

      He nodded and replaced the hood of mail, hiding most of his face. Now she saw why it had been so difficult to recognise him, though her mind had sensed something. He looked so much older, hardened by battle and suffering. Elaine longed to reach him, to tell him that her love was strong enough to survive all that had happened, but what right did she have to claim his love? The Zander who had gone to fight in the Holy wars had loved her, but how could she know what was in this man’s heart? In the years between he might have loved another. She might be merely a distant memory. How could she claim his love and loyalty if he did not wish to give them?

      ‘We should leave if we are to reach your dower lands before Newark finds us,’ Zander said. ‘I can protect you from much—but not if we are too heavily outnumbered, so we shall move swiftly and travel through the night.’ He held out his hand to her. ‘Are you able to ride on alone, or shall I take you up with me?’

      ‘I can ride alone, but you…’ Her words were banished, for to speak of his weakness the previous day might anger or humiliate him.

      ‘Your herbs have helped me, Elaine. Perhaps you would brew more for me this night?’

      ‘Yes, my lord. I shall be happy to do anything I can to repay you. I could also help the pain in your cheek—if you would let me?’

      ‘How do you know it pains me?’

      ‘Because I can see that the poison has gathered beneath the skin. It needs to be opened and cleansed, the pus removed and then unguents applied to heal the flesh beneath.’

      ‘Had you seen the wound Janvier tended you would not have thought this so terrible,’ he said and smiled slightly. ‘The pain I bear now is nothing to that I have suffered.’

      ‘Yet it could be eased, sir.’ Elaine looked at him proudly. She raised her head, gazing into his eyes. If he thought her still a child, he was wrong. ‘I have spent the years you were away learning the skills a chatelaine needs to keep her people well and happy. I have learned much of herbs and healing.’

      ‘Your mother was a healer, though she died too young—what happened to your father, Elaine?’

      ‘My father died but a few months since. He had a wasting sickness that none could heal. My cures eased his suffering, but I could not save him—only God could have done that.’

      ‘Is there a God?’ Zander asked, a twist of bitterness about his mouth. ‘Once I took up the Cross for His sake—but now I question He exists. Only a cruel god would allow the suffering that I have seen, not just on the field of battle—but innocents…children…’

      Elaine stared at him. Her faith was strong and it hurt her to hear such words on his lips. ‘It is not God who makes us suffer, but the evil that is in the world and in us. God forgives us no matter what we do.’

      ‘Such blind faith,’ Zander said. ‘I wish that I could believe as you do, but I cannot—my faith died with an innocent boy and so many others. So much blood stained the earth of the land we call Holy.’

      ‘I cannot understand what makes you say these words,’ Elaine told him, ‘but I know that you have seen and felt too much. God will forgive you and take you back into His love, Zander. One day He will give you his peace.’

      ‘When I am dead, perhaps?’ Something flickered in his eyes. ‘Now you see why I am not fit to be your husband, Elaine. Yet I vow to protect you with my life, unworthy as it is.’

      Her throat was tight with tears. She did not know what to say to this man. He was bitter and angry, disillusioned with all that had made him the man of ideals and faith she had loved. In truth, she was not sure that she would wish to wed him now.

      Keeping her emotions hid as best she could, Elaine allowed him to help her mount her horse. His words had hurt her, but she would not let him see her weep. He was a stranger to her and only time would tell if there was anything left inside him of the man she’d loved.

      They rode far and hard. Elaine was weary long before they stopped. When at last they came to a house that it seemed was known to Zander, she almost collapsed into his arms dismounting. He saw it at once and carried her into the house, the door of which opened, as if they expected him.

      ‘Zander, my friend,’ a tall blond knight said as he came to greet them. ‘Welcome to my home. When I learned that you still lived my heart was gladdened. Come in, friends. My house is yours while you need it.’

      ‘My lady needs a bed,’ Zander said. ‘She is in danger, Philip, and I have vowed to protect her—for that I may need your help. When she reaches her dower lands it may be that Newark’s men are before us. I do not have the force to make him yield, but he would yield to you.’

      ‘He will yield or I’ll have him arrested and thrown in gaol. I am the King’s Marshal in these parts and I have forbidden the barons to quarrel amongst themselves. Any that defy my decree shall be outlawed, forced to seek their bread in another land.’

      ‘Then I can rely on you to protect her,’ Zander said. ‘But where may she rest this night?’

      ‘Anne will take her to her own chamber,’ Lord Philip Henry of Stornway said. ‘My sister remains unwed, for she cannot find a man that pleases her and, fool that I am, I shall not force her.’

      A tall woman came forwards. She was thin, but not uncomely, her long dark hair plaited and hanging down her back. Around her brow she wore a thin band of silver, to which a fine veil was attached. They were not alike—they had been born of different mothers, both of whom had died soon after giving birth.

      ‘Come this way, sir,’ she invited. ‘I shall care of her this night.’

      ‘She is but exhausted,’ Zander said. ‘I pushed her too hard, but I feared Newark still hunted for her.’

      ‘He is not a good man,’ Anne Stornway said, a thin smile on her lips. ‘He asked for my hand when I was but thirteen, but my uncle and brother sent him away. I am five and twenty now and past the age of marriage, but if the earl asked me a thousand times I would not take him.’

      Zander nodded grimly, carrying Elaine into the comfortable chamber that Anne led them to. The tester