After the Storm (27 page)

Libby hated knowing he was right. She couldn't help everyone. Besides, it was against the rules. Time Search personnel were immunized against every possible Sizemore, Susan - After the Storm

ancient disease, but it wasn't possible to extend that protection to the entire population of the Middle Ages. Maybe they'd better get out of town before her conscience got the better of her and she threw even more rules out the window.

"You can't stop people from dying."

Bastien spoke her thought aloud, and she nodded in acknowledgment. "I hate this."

"I know." He urged her out the door. "So do I. We better go."

"Yes." She slipped out of his grip and gathered up her things while he waited by the door. He held out his hand to take the bundle when she came back to him.

"No thanks."

"It's not chivalry." he told her with a smile. "I'm wounded, and you're better with a bow than I am."

"Not much." She realized that she was defending his masculine pride for him, and could tell by the laughter in his green eyes that he didn't feel the need for any defense. He was secure in his abilities, and confident of hers. She started melting inside all over again. The last thing she needed right now was sloppy sentiment over the man, but she couldn't seem to help it. "All right," she agreed, and passed the bundle to him. "Let's get moving." She let him lead the way, taking point.

She and the dogs followed as they headed back into the woods.

"Who was that man?"

Bastien glanced over his shoulder at Isabeau. It was past midday, and they'd walked for hours without exchanging a word. "What man?"

"The one you were talking to yesterday. Before Rolf's men arrived."

He wasn't sure it was any concern of hers. He continued walking, keeping his eyes on the narrow trail that followed the bank of the Stour River. The forest was thick and silent on either side of the brisk current. The water was high from Sizemore, Susan - After the Storm

yesterday's rains, and the trail was sometimes covered in shallow water. They'd taken off their shoes, and Isabeau had tucked up her skirts to keep from dragging them in water and mud. He wished she was walking ahead of him so he'd have the chance to appreciate her long, shapely legs.

"Who was that man?" she repeated after a while.

"An outlaw," he answered.

"One of your men?"

"No."

"What's he called?"

Persistent woman. "Warin."

"Warin?"

She sounded like she didn't believe him. Bastien stopped and turned around. Her expression was as skeptical as her voice had been. "Warin of Flaye," he told her.

"Satisfied?"

"Where's that?"

"I don't know."

"If he isn't one of your men, who does he work for?"

"Why do you care?"

"Why don't you want to tell me? What do you have to hide?"

"I am an outlaw," he reminded her. "A brigand, a wolfshead. I have a great deal to hide."

She smiled sweetly. "Not from me."

His arm was hurting, he wasn't quite sure where they were going, and he was hungry. He didn't need any more irritation. "Why should I tell you anything?"

Sizemore, Susan - After the Storm

Her answer was a maddening, enigmatic smile. He'd seen it many times before.

There was no escaping when she was like this. "Warin is one of Sikes's men."

She tilted her head to one side. "Is that so?"

"You've heard of Old Sikes?"

"Yes. What were you and Warin talking about?"

"About Sikes's band giving my people shelter."

She glanced at the river for a while. He watched thoughts flow across her expression faster than the rushing water. When she looked back at him she said,

"It might be a good idea. I'd like to meet this Sikes." She looked like a wolf eager to meet its dinner.

"Why?"

She shook her head. "There's a clearing up ahead. Why don't we rest for a while?"

He decided that he didn't want to continue the discussion about Sikes, so he accepted her diversion. "Fine."

They made their way along the bank a little way, then climbed a small hill just beyond a stand of willows.

The hillside was covered in bright wildflowers, and they settled down side by side in the fragrant blossoms. The dogs spotted a rabbit and took off after it through the undergrowth.

"Hope they catch dinner," Libby said as she watched the sleek hounds race away. "I think Luke and Leia are pretty good at taking care of themselves."

She wrapped her arms around her drawn-up knees. Her impulse was to wrap her arms around the tired man beside her, but she kept her distance for now. He stared off into the distance, silent and moody. Because she wasn't quite sure how Sizemore, Susan - After the Storm

to proceed, she let the silence draw out. Eventually a pair of gray herons landed on the edge of the river and began to strut cautiously through the shallows, fishing for their own dinner. She watched the big, graceful birds for a while before looking at her companion once more. He looked more sad than tired, the expression in his eyes darkly despondent. She still didn't reach out to him, though she longed to.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked.

He didn't take his eyes off the fishing herons. "Are they mates, do you think?"

"Yes," she said. "Probably."

"Mates for life?"

"I'm no expert on birds, Bas."

He turned his anguished stare on her. "People should mate for life. It was all I ever wanted."

Libby's throat tightened with pain. Her heart ached for him, and for herself. She fought hard not to cry. She held her hand toward him, but he moved away.

"We should go to Sikes," he went on before she could find any words. He got to his feet.

She was confused by this abrupt change of subject. She leaned back on her elbows to look up at him. She didn't like being loomed over, but Bastien looked like hell, tired and defeated, so she didn't complain. "Why do you want to go to Sikes?" she asked.

"I left her at Lilydrake," was all he said before he turned and walked away.

Yeah
, she thought, as she glared at his retreating back,
you did
. Her irrational bitterness lasted only a moment. Still confused, she hurried to catch up with him.

"What's leaving your wife have to do with Sikes?" She suspected she knew the Sizemore, Susan - After the Storm

answer to this much better than he did, but she wanted his explanation just the same.

He continued along the river path. "There's a ford near here," he said. "We'll have to cross the river to get to Maiden Well. Maybe Warin will still be there. I told him that's where I'd meet him last night. Sikes's camp must be on the other side of the river, as well."

"And Warin will take us to Sikes?"

"You'll be safe enough there while I'm with you," he answered.

She'd been right, he was guilty because he'd left his wife and didn't want to make the same mistake with her. He blamed himself for what had happened. Libby put her hand on his arm, grasped his tunic and forced him to stop. "I can take care of myself, you know. You know that better than anybody." She wasn't boasting, or arguing. She was trying to be reassuring.

"Can you fight off all of Rolf's men?" He shook her off. "I'm going to see that you stay safe."

His expression was closed, he was locked in with old pain and Libby didn't know what to do about it. He'd had no help dealing with six months' worth of physical and emotional trauma. She couldn't afford to make a wrong step or he might never recover. She knew she had to do something, but she wasn't sure what would help. So she decided not to push him right now. Besides, she very much wanted to have a talk with Warm.

So she let him lead the way to the ford. She even let him guide her across the river with his good arm around her waist. The bottom was slippery and the current fast. She was appreciative of his support. When they reached the other side and she kissed his cheek in thanks he pulled away as if he'd been burned.

Bastien walked almost blindly away from Isabeau, not because he hadn't wanted Sizemore, Susan - After the Storm

her touch, but because he wanted it too much. Wanted it, and didn't deserve it.

He set off through the woods again, carefully listening to make sure she followed, but not taking the risk of looking at her. He'd lost the one woman he'd loved. He wouldn't lose this woman, but he wouldn't let himself love her. The irony of the situation was a scalding ache. He'd wanted to make the Lady of Lilydrake love him as punishment for the loss of his wife. He hadn't gotten what he wanted.

As the dark, secret pool known as Maiden Well came into sight, he couldn't stop himself from saying, "I should never have made love to you."

"Yes, you should have." Her words were full of serene assurance. She had no doubts, no regrets. Had it meant anything to her? He turned to face her. She was smiling at him, a tentative, concerned smile. She took a step toward him. He backed away. "Bas?"

"It was nothing to you, was it? Just a way to pass the time with a peasant." He was trying to convince himself more than hurt her with his accusations. "Did my body please you, my lady?"

"Completely," she answered. "And I pleased you." She pointed a finger at his chest. "I'm not going to let you get away with this, you know."

"Get away with what? Making you my prisoner? Having sex with you? You manipulated this entire situation." She didn't deny it. "Who had who?" he demanded.

"Isn't that an old Aretha Franklin song? Or maybe it's AC/DC? My mother collects antique CD's, I'm into old movies." She swept a hand through the air, as if brushing away her own strange words. She was very serious when she spoke again. "Stop trying to punish yourself by hurting me, Bas. You're not going to get rid of me that easily. I'm tough, remember? Tough enough to love you."

Sizemore, Susan - After the Storm

"I don't want your love."

"Oh yes, you do."

He didn't know if it was her words or her refusal to acknowledge that he didn't mean anything to her that was giving him a headache. He gave her a mocking bow. "You want my body, you mean. Shall I perform for your pleasure again, Lady Isabeau?"

"Don't call me that."

"That's who you are, isn't it?"

"No."

"You are a great man's daughter, I'm a peasant."

"Let's not bring my father into this."

He stepped closer, trying to use his size to intimidate her. But he came close enough to feel the heat of her body, and the longing to touch her drove him back a step. All he wanted was to take her in his arms, to be with her forever. That would be wrong, a final betrayal.

He lashed out at her instead. "My life is forfeit if I'm captured. Will you betray me when you're done with this adventure? Will you laugh when they hang me, my lady? Will you marry Rolf of Gesthowe and remember our night together sometimes from the safety of your strong, warm castle? Will you take other villeins as lovers? Will any peasant do? Or just outlaws?"

Her fists went to her hips, her chin rose to a combative angle. "Bas, where do you get these— medieval—ideas from?"

"From Cynric," he answered without thinking. "Cynric taught me how treacherous nobles are."

"Good for Cynric. Have you got any thoughts of your own?"

Sizemore, Susan - After the Storm

"None that I want to share with your kind."

"Who do you want to share your thoughts with, then? Your wife?"

Her voice was soft as silk, and as strong. The words went into him like an arrow.

The pain in his heart was far worse than that from the barb that had pierced his arm. She'd pulled that arrow out only to drive this one into him now. His breath came in a gasp of agony. "I don't want to talk about my wife. Not to you." He wanted to turn from her, but he was trapped by her angry gaze.

She came to him and clutched his arms in a taloned grip. She ignored his wound to inflict her words on him. "We're going to talk about her."

He shook his head. "No."

"You don't remember her, but I do."

His temples were beginning to pound. "I left her," he said. He hadn't wanted to talk about it, but the words came of their own will. "I ran away and left her.

I can't remember her face or her name. I only remember that I had a wife. I remember I lost her."

"That's a place to start," she said.

Her voice was gentle and understanding. It was oh, so seductive to listen to that voice, to accept her touch, her company. She didn't understand. She couldn't. So he told her.

"When I look at you I don't want to remember her. You fill the place where she should be. You take the pain away."

"You think you need the pain to keep her with you?"

He nodded. "You make me—happy. Angry. Exasperated. You make me feel like a man again, not just a walking shell."

"You do the same for me. Don't you know that you're what makes me whole?"

Sizemore, Susan - After the Storm

She sounded as desperate as he felt. He hated hurting her, but he had no choice.

"When I'm with you I don't hear her laughter, or the sound of her voice in my memory," he explained.

"Could you remember her before you saw me?"

"No."

"Then what makes you think—"

"I tried to remember her. I've almost stopped trying since I first saw you. It's your laughter, your temper, the feel of your skin, the taste of you that fills me.

You're becoming all I know."

"Oh, Bas." She touched his cheek. He pulled sharply away. He felt her sympathy, her caring. He wanted her to hold him.

"No. I need to remember my wife. I have to hold on to whatever I can of her. I can't let myself love anyone else. I have to remember her. I owe her."

"Because you love her?" Her tone was bleached of all color. He looked back at her. She was as pale as her voice had been. Her dark eyes looked enormous, full of anguish, and something he couldn't read. "Is it love, Bas, or is it just guilt?"

He flinched inwardly. "I love her." He wanted it to be the whole truth, but he wasn't sure. "I can't love you and love my wife."

"God damn it, Sebastian, I AM YOUR WIFE!"