Great Protector (36 page)

"Bath
first, sleep later," he countered quietly, firmly.

Regine
moved to her sister's side, her eyes wide as she waited for Richmond to direct
her further. He looked to the young girl, managing a feeble wink. "She
will be fine, Regine. Tell me; where is your mother?"

"In
her bower with Lady Livia and Lady Maxine, I believe," Regine said, shaken
and fatigued by the day of events.

In
Richmond's arms, Arissa suddenly twitched and her eyes opened wide. Fat tears
began to spill down her temples. "Bart! One of those men killed him!"

Regine
let out a horrified cry and Richmond grabbed hold of the younger girl in a
supportive, if not quieting, gesture. He eyed her as she sobbed heavily, his
brow furrowed with concern as he returned his attention to Arissa.

"You
are sure, kitten? How do you know?"

Weeping
softly, Arissa struggled to answer. "They.... they broke into Mossy's
sanctuary and Bart tried to defend me. They killed him!"

Regine's
sobs grew louder as Richmond continued to gaze at Arissa, his age and
exhaustion suddenly evident on his features. They had already lost Carlton to
the attack, and now Bartholomew. Lady Maxine had not yet been informed of her
husband's passing; Richmond had been making his way into the castle to inform
her of his death when he had been met by a frantic Mossy.

Richmond
had forgotten all about Carlton when Mossy demanded that he save Arissa from
her abductors. The only matter of import had been to rescue his charge, his
love, and he cursed himself for being neglectful enough to forget the death of
his friend until reminded inadvertently at this moment. As if Carlton's death
had been meaningless. On the contrary; Carlton had taken a blade meant for
Richmond himself.

He
sighed heavily, closing his eyes briefly in a blatant display of disgust. He
simply could not understand what was happening; from the details of Tad de
Rydal's ambush to the revelation of Arissa's abduction, nothing made any sense
and he was too weary at the moment to attempt the feat of detailed
comprehension. Whatever the answers he sought, he would hap upon them soon
enough.

The
only matter of concern at the moment, however, was taking care of Arissa and
informing Lady Maxine of her husband's death. After that, he would confirm
Arissa's story of Bartholomew's demise and brace himself for the eventuality of
delivering the news to the young man's parents. An event he was dreading
already.

But
he forced himself to focus on the task at hand as Arissa began to quiver in his
arms. She was cold and damp and he was eager to plunge her into the hot water.

"Regine,"
he gently shook the hysterical young girl. "Be a good lass and see what's
keeping Penelope. Go on now; that's a good girl."

Hiccupping
and weeping, Regine shuffled across the floor as Mossy and Gavan appeared in
the doorway. Gavan peered curiously at the youngest de Lohr.

"What's
the matter, love?"

"B-art's
dead!" she sobbed.

Shocked,
Gavan looked to Richmond as he stood with Arissa in his arms. Before Richmond
could reply, Mossy moved into the room with far less energy than he usually
exhibited. "He’s not dead, though I expect he will be shortly," he
said in a thin voice. "The lad defended Arissa bravely, but he simply was
not skilled enough with a blade. It was a short fight."

Richmond
sighed heavily with sorrow and disgust. "God be merciful," he
murmured fervently, moving towards the tub. "Where is he now?"

"In
my sanctuary," Mossy replied. "I did what I could for him. The rest
is up to God."

Richmond
reached the tub with Arissa lethargically in his arms. "Gavan, see if
there is anything else to be done for the lad. If he’s already dead, then move
him to where Carlton lies. And see what is transpiring outside and report back
to me. I would know what level of resistance we are currently meeting
with."

Arissa
couldn't decide if she should be delighted that her brother lived still or
grief-stricken because he was not expected to survive. 'Twas a wild field of
emotions wreaking havoc in her muddled mind. But over her concern for
Bartholomew's predicament, she understood Richmond's words regarding Penelope's
father and a new measure of sorrow gripped her.

"Carlton
is dead?" she asked.

Richmond
set her down gently, peeling away the coverlet. "Aye, kitten. But Penelope
does not know. Not a word to her, please. I have not told her mother yet."

Gavan
escorted Regine from the room, closing the door softly. When the last of the
coverlet fell away from Arissa's shivering body, Richmond gently helped his
very naked charge into the tub. With a sniffle and a sigh, Arissa submerged
herself up to her neck.

As
she soaked in the steaming water, Mossy examined the lump on her forehead.
"It's not too severe," he observed. "Do yer ears ring,
Riss?"

"A
little," she said quietly. "I am terribly tired."

"No
doubt," Mossy said, digging through his bag. Suddenly, a large rat popped
forth and skittered across the floor, vanishing underneath the bed. Mossy acted
as if he hadn't noticed the rodent, continuing to rummage through his satchel.
"Damn rats. They like to eat my pessaries."

"Pessaries?"
Arissa repeated.

"Aye."
Mossy suddenly drew forth a pouch, shoving it at Richmond. When Richmond looked
puzzled, the ancient crone fixed him in the eye. "To prevent pregnancy,”
he said. “Since ye and Arissa are lovers, there is a great need to prevent her
from conceiving before ye can marry her. Were she to become pregnant, it would
become a terrible scandal, not to mention the nuns would probably take the babe
away and ye'd never see it again. Do ye understand what I am telling ye?"

Richmond
stared at him a moment, moving woodenly to accept the pouch. "I.... I
understand all too well," he swallowed, slanting Arissa a glance.
"How did you know?"

Mossy
dabbed Arissa's bruise with a clear salve. "She told me. But I will tell
ye that I was not surprised. I have been expecting it."

Richmond
did not know what to say. He touched Arissa's hair as Mossy tended her wound,
his weary thoughts threatening to consume his sanity. Far more had happened in
the past two days than he could hope to comprehend and his exhausted mind was
fairly numb with the entirety of events. When the old man finished spreading
the ointment, he returned his attention to his bag once again.

"Ye
might want to consider using the pessaries indefinitely, Richmond," he
said softly. "Arissa's health is delicate and were she to conceive, it
might prove to be too much for her. With her petite stature and yer massive
size, the child she would bear would most likely kill her. I know ye'd consider
her life over the desire for an heir."

Arissa's
eyes came open and she looked to Mossy, suddenly lucid. "That's ridiculous,
Mossy. I shall not hear such nonsense. Richmond must have a dozen heirs."

Richmond
scratched his head. "He’s simply thinking of your health, Riss. Mayhap we
should listen...."

"Nay!"
she spat. "I shall not listen to him, and I shall not use his foolish
pessaries!"

Richmond
stood up, patting her shoulder gently. "All right, kitten, all right. Do
not get yourself worked up. There will be plenty of time to discuss this
later."

She
shook her head firmly, feeling her body relax as he began to massage her neck.
"There's nothing to discuss," she said softly, closing her eyes
against his touch. "I shall bear you a host of sons in spite of Mossy's
worry. I can do it."

Behind
Arissa, Richmond passed a lingering glance at Mossy. "I know you can,
kitten." But he did not mean it.

A
heavy silence descended on the room, the faint sounds of the waning battle
permeating the air. Richmond knew the conflict was declining and he was not
planning on returning to the action to clean up the remnants; Daniel was in
charge and could handle the task admirably. Furthermore, he had completed his
duty; he had saved Lambourn with his intelligence and tactics and considered
his function fulfilled for the moment.

From
the most strenuous of duties to the tenderest of tasks, he continued to massage
Arissa's shoulders, trying desperately not to linger on her magnificent breasts
just below the waterline. She was warming under his hands, her spirit and life
returning and he was infinitely grateful that God had given him the strength
and skill to save her from the most intense peril yet.

 As
Richmond pondered the fortunes of Fate, Mossy sat on the edge of the bed,
rummaging through his bad as usual. The man could never remain still for any
length of time and Richmond passed him a curious glance, wondering what on
earth he was looking for.

"What
did the soldier mean when he referred to me as Henry's daughter?" Arissa's
voice pierced the air, thin and barely audible.

Richmond
continued to rub her shoulders, not daring to glance at Mossy. The old man,
thankfully, hadn't faltered in his rummaging. Except for the fact that he was
making more noise than usual, Richmond would have thought he hadn't heard the question
at all.

When
Richmond did not answer right away, Arissa turned to look at him. The lump on
her forehead was already turning shades of blue as their gazes locked.

"Do
you know what he meant? You did not seem surprised by his words, Richmond. In
fact, you said that Owen could not have me. Who is Owen?"

Richmond
stopped his gentle massage. He couldn't help but look to Mossy then; the old
man had stopped digging through his satchel and was focused openly on Richmond,
as if waiting for the knight to deliver a comprehensive explanation. Obviously,
he was expecting Richmond to single-handedly deal with the situation.

Seeing
he would receive little, if any, support from the old man, Richmond scratched
his head thoughtfully and crouched beside the tub.

"Owen
Glendower is the Welshman resisting England's rule of Wales," he said
quietly.

Her
gaze was open, inquisitive. "The soldier said he was going to take me to
Owen. Why would he do that, Richmond? Why in the world would he want me?"

Mossy
rose from the bed, stiffly, feeling every one of his eighty-odd years. "De
Rydal's attack was a cover for her abduction, Richmond. Of that I am sure. To
distract ye from Arissa and then spirit her away to Wales was their true
objective."

Richmond
glanced to the old man. "I do not believe that was the case, although it
was a convenient and coincidental happening. Ovid was screaming for my head
from the moment his army attacked. He wanted me, to be sure. The man who
abducted Arissa must have been here prior to the attack and simply used the
assault to his advantage."

"That
may be so, but the point is that Owen knows she’s here. And he will undoubtedly
attempt to abduct her again."

Richmond
opened his mouth, but Arissa suddenly leapt into the conversation. "What
are you talking about? Richmond, what's happening?"

Richmond's
gaze fell on her once more. Her inquisitive look was gone, replaced by a
measure of suspicion and bewilderment. He sighed heavily; she was eighteen, a
woman grown, and old enough to know of her true heritage. Moreover, it would be
difficult to conceal any factual evidence from her at this point, for she had
already heard several portions of the truth.

Henry
had wanted to tell her himself when she was old enough to understand the
significance of her position. William had been forbidden to tell her, but
Richmond was under no such orders. Gazing into her wide green eyes, he could
see the time for truth had come.

It
was his right and privilege to inform her of her true heritage. Even as he
considered it a necessity in the wake of recent events, he was nonetheless
seized with degree of apprehension. Clearly, for her own safety, Arissa needed
to know what was going on around her.

Before
she could ask again, he took a deep breath and brought her hand to his lips for
a tender kiss.

"What
I am about to tell you will undoubtedly shock you, Riss. But above all else, I
want you to remember how very much I love you. That will never change."

Her
expression turned faintly guarded as he watched. The fingers against his lips
began to caress his stubble. "What is it?"

He
paused a moment as he collected his thoughts, studying her beautiful face with
a twinkle in his eye. "What are your first recollections of me?"

She
blinked, initially in confusion and then in thought. "I can remember you
for as long as I can recall. I recollect when I was very young, you brought me
a white rabbit for my birthday and the rabbit scratched me."

He
smiled faintly, a tender warmth settling between them. She was calm and open,
trusting him as she always had. He would strive to maintain the delicate faith
between them as the conversation progressed.

"You
were three years old at the time," he said softly. "You cried so hard
that you vomited. Not from pain, but because your feelings were hurt. Do you
remember?"