Heart's Ransom (Heart and Soul) (11 page)

Upon seeing Gwen, Mince struggled in Leo’s hands, grunting and straining.

Talon felt his depression ease.  “’Tis all right, Leo.”

The page put the pup down who happily trotted over and stood on his hind legs, his forepaws braced against the side of the bed.  He wagged his tail so hard his entire body wiggled, and nuzzled Gwen’s hand as it draped over Talon’s legs, licking her fingers.

Talon chuckled scratching behind the pup’s floppy ears.  At first, he wasn’t certain if he
would be a down-eared dog, but now it appeared as if they simply had not yet grown enough to stand up. 

Mince closed his eyes and sighed in pleasure, leaning towards Talon’s hand.  “Perhaps I was wrong about you, Mince.  I guess that nose of yours works just fine even if you are a stray mongrel.”

Mince grunted, leaning harder into Talon’s hand as he scratched.

“Well, my friend, I’ll give you the biggest bones and make sure Samson doesn’t harass you again.” 

Mince dropped to all fours, gave Gwen’s fingers a final lick, and then trotted to the small bed in the corner she had made for him.  He turned three times and settled down with a sigh, instantly falling asleep.

“Well, my lord,” Marcus said, tugging on Leo’s arm.  “We will let you rest.”

“What day is it, Marcus? I fear I have lost track.”

“The first of July, now past evensong.  Shall I have your meal brought up to you?”

Talon nodded and settled next to Gwen, holding her close.  He buried his face in her hair, waiting for her to awaken.

Gwen slowly opened her eyes to the sound of a soft voice muttering.  Her body, especially her throat, still ached but it seemed much improved.  At least she was finally warm.  But she blinked, abruptly realizing why she was warm.

Talon lay beside her in bed, his arms firmly wrapped around her.  His chest was bare and the blankets covered him to the waist.  She wore only a thin shift.  The breath caught in her throat, sending more pain through the core of her being.  She swallowed hard, trying to steady her pulse.

But her gaze was drawn to his massive chest.  She admired the hue of his sun-bronzed skin.  Despite the fog of her illness, she remembered clearly what it felt like to have his strength shelter her.  She longed to run her fingers over his chest, to intimately explore the corded power, to know what every inch of his body felt like under her hands.

Talon muttered again, tossing his head from side to side, his tawny hair falling like a mane around his face.  She scowled seeing his eyes closed but rapid movement under the lids.  The lines of anguish on his face had deepened, his body coiled next to hers as if preparing to do battle.

Was this the reason why he rarely slept and walked the battlements at night?  Nightmares?

He muttered again, softly crying out a name.  “Rose!”

She watched him, uncertain if she should wake him or not.

“Rose, nay!”

Who was Rose?

“Come back.”

Was she his lover, a woman who had spurned him?

“Rose, my sweet Rose.”

None of this made sense.

Talon relaxed a little, his mutterings falling to incomprehensible words.

She was startled at the pain that cut her to the quick.  Whoever this Rose was, her departure had ripped open Talon’s soul and left it bleeding.  Gwen remembered years ago word reaching them about Talon’s betrothal, but she had given it little thought and never knew what became of it.  But there was no sign of a wife or lady in the keep.  She wondered if the betrothal had been broken and Rose had abandoned Talon.

She never imagined a man like Talon allowing himself to become so vulnerable to a woman.  But the agony she heard when he cried out for Rose was very real.  He loved her deeply and she had forsaken him.

Gwen suddenly hated this Rose.  How dare this woman destroy his heart and leave him in such desperate pain.  Yet in one sense, she understood Talon.  If a woman had managed to capture his heart, he was the type of man to love completely, with all of himself.  It would not be an easy thing to accomplish, to find the soul buried so deeply behind his defenses, but once it was done, that special woman would hold Talon’s heart within her own.

And this fool wench had torn him to shreds.

For a brief instant, Gwen wondered if she might be the woman to reach past his defenses and heal the damage done.  Abruptly she shook her head.  Now she was being daft.  After the pain Talon had known, he would never risk loving again and most certainly he would not love her, she was nothing more than a Welshwoman from an enemy castle, now his prisoner.

She sighed bitterly.  So much for the wonderful romantic chansons which spoke of love so deep it transcended human limitations.  The bards spoke of it only to toy with hearts and tease people with what could never be obtained.

“Rose!” he cried.  “I will find you!”

Swallowing hard, Gwen touched his face.  “Talon.”  Her voice was a bare whisper; it cracked and squeaked, sending pain through her body.

“Rose,” he gasped.

“Talon.”  She softened her voice, making it a bit easier to speak.

“Where are you?”

“Talon,” she soothed, stroking his hair from his face.

Talon’s eyes suddenly flew open and he sat up, panting, his eyes wild.

“Talon?” she gently touched his shoulder.

He stared at her, as if trying to determine where he was.  Then he blinked and sanity returned.  “Gwen?” he gasped.  “You spoke.”

She managed a smile as he turned his attention fully to her.  His shoulders relaxed and he lowered himself to his elbow, wrapping his free arm around her.  “Praise the saints,” he whispered.  “You’re awake.”

Although her heart ached with the knowledge of what Rose meant to him, she savored the warmth of his embrace.

He pulled away slightly, gazing down at her, his hand stroking her face and toying with her hair.  His eye sparked with a brilliant amber fire.  “Forgive me.”

“For what?” Her voice grew hoarser, barely audible.

His lips tugged upward in a wolfish smile.  “For being in bed with you.”

Her cheeks burned furiously.

His smile grew.  “I could not bear to leave you, Gwen.  But I grew exhausted and could no longer keep my eyes open.  I settled next to you - if anything happened - I would know immediately.”

Her throat closed as she gazed at him. 
Who is Rose?
She wanted to ask, but could not summon the courage.  Right now the anguish had vanished and he gazed at her with a smile that reminded her of a little boy bent on mischief.  Lord have mercy, his mother must have had a beastly time with him growing up.

She found herself entranced with his smile, the sudden change in him, from torment to happiness.  Perhaps she really was the woman who could--

Nay.  She had to stop thinking like that.

Talon gazed at her steadily.  Was it her imagination or was he leaning closer?  Had his fingers slowed their journey to cup her cheek more securely? 

He focused on her lips and she realized he was indeed only inches away from kissing her.  Her heart slammed under her ribs again but she could not move.  With agonizing slowness, he lowered his head.

A knock sounded on the door and Talon froze for a heartbeat.  A soft chuckle rumbled through him and he abruptly veered to lightly kiss her forehead.  Then he bounded out of bed, pulling on his tunic.

“Who is it?”

Gwen swallowed hard.  He wore only his hosen which clung to his body, the drawstring loose and the garment low on his lean hips.  She followed the trail of narrow dark hair that started from his bellybutton, descending the center of his strong stomach, and vanished under his
clothing.  The hosen, a tight weave, left absolutely nothing to her imagination.  Her blush increased in intensity but she could not tear her gaze away.  She blatantly stared at the gifts God so wonderfully endowed him with, cursing whoever it was on the other side of the door.

“Find something that interests you, my lady?” he asked softly.

Gwen’s gaze shot back to her face and she saw him looking at her with a wry expression.  But fire smoldered in his dark eyes.

Dear God, he had seen her admiring him.

The door opened and Alys stepped through.  “’Tis time for Gwen’s tea,” she said brightly.

Gwen groaned in frustration and pulled the pillow over her head.  Damn Alys and her despicable timing.

She thought she heard Talon’s soft chuckle and suddenly wanted to throw the pillow at him.

“I believe she is feeling better, Alys.”

“Go--” Her voice cracked and quit completely but it did not distract her thoughts.  She was absolutely mortified at herself.

“Aye, definitely feeling better, my lord.”

Talon laughed, a sound so rich that she moved the pillow and peeked out from under it at him.  He flashed her a grin that fair lit the room and stole her breath.  Sweet Mary have mercy that smile was beautiful and nearly debilitating.  A maiden did not have a prayer when he wielded his charm in conjunction with his good looks.  And he manipulated both as easily and with as deadly accuracy as he would Florentine swords, a winsome personality and a heart-stopping smile became a weapon in each hand. 

He strode to her, took her hand, and moved the pillow away with the other.  He lightly kissed her cheek then whispered in her ear.  “You are fair beautiful.  And I’ll warn you, when you look at me with fire in your eyes, you near drive me mad.”

She took a breath but he touched a finger to her lips.

“Nay,” he said, smiling at her.  “Save your voice, let your throat heal.”  He pulled away and strode from the room.  “I will let you rest and check on you later.”  He left her gaping at his departing back.

****

Talon scarcely dared to examine the joy bubbling within him as he descended the stairs
into the great hall.  He took the steps two at a time, and then jumped the last three to the floor.  Eleanor’s curse had not been able to move Gwen from his side.  She had faced death and came away victorious.

But Talon feared if he looked at the situation too closely, if he savored the victory, the curse would re-exert itself with vile consequences.

On the other hand, Talon had witnessed firsthand that Gwen was strong enough to defeat its power.  Was it possible?  Did Gwen’s spirit possess the fire to conquer Eleanor and the savage hold her ghost had over Talon and the occupants of Montgomery?

Sweet Jesu, he couldn’t risk hoping like that, but a spark ignited deep within his soul and he could not deny it.

“My lord,” Marcus called, hurrying towards him with Aaron in tow.  “Aaron has just returned with news.”

Talon straightened, his jovial mood fading.  “Did you catch the mercenary?”

“After a fashion, my lord,” Aaron said.  Talon noted he was dirty, his expression haggard and worn.  “We converged on the clearing but the sod is slippery and led us on a merry chase.  We cornered him in an old barn but do not have the man power to go in and get him.  Too many exits which he can flee through.  I do not wish to risk his escape so I rode hard for Montgomery to fetch more men to cover all routes.”

Talon nodded curtly.  “A wise decision.  Take however many men you need but add me to their number.”

“My lord?” Aaron asked in shock.  Fear suddenly marred his expression.  “But I thought you were staying until the lady....”  He swallowed hard and Talon knew he feared the worst.

Talon grinned broadly, clouting him on the shoulder.  “She is recovered, Aaron.”

Aaron smiled in relief.  “Praise be. This is fine news, my lord.”

“Aye.  Now, gather more men and let us be off.”  He pushed past the two.  “Thomas!  Fetch me my armor and saddle my horse.  We ride within the hour.  Marcus, please inform Lady Gwen that with great regret I must leave for a short time.”

Marcus inclined his head.  “Of course, my lord.”

****

Gwen finally regained the energy to sit in the great hall.  The cuts on her throat were healing nicely and her voice was much improved but still low and a bit graveled.  If she spoke too much it would give out on her, yet she was encouraged that it seemed to be healing quickly. 

On the other hand, her spirits were low.  Talon had said he would be gone for a short time, but she had not expected three days.  Evening descended and Gwen wondered if the dawn would bring the beginning of a very lonely day four.

She sighed and looked down at Mince who growled in her lap.  She had braided a few rags into a short, thick rope.  Holding one end, Mince grabbed the other and tugged on it, making ferocious puppy sounds.  She smiled and scratched behind his ears.  Marcus had told her how Mince had found her assailant.  But she had been surprised that Talon had been patient enough with the pup to actually follow it.  She was beginning to think his harsh words about a stray mongrel were nothing more than bluster.

The door of the keep flew open, smacking violently against the stone wall with a resounding bang.  Gwen and Alys jumped as Talon stormed in, snarling incoherently.  He carried his great helm in his hands, his armor and surcoat dirty, as if he had ridden for leagues in one day.

With another impotent cry of rage, Talon launched his great helm across the hall.  It slammed against a bare wall with a metallic bong.  Gwen’s heart rattled her ribs.  Before she had witnessed flashes of rage within him, but he had always controlled it with an icy restraint.  Now his fury escaped his grasp and Gwen found it terrifying to witness.  She suddenly knew why he exercised such savage discipline.  He took a step for the stairs and abruptly staggered, his rage fading as quickly as it appeared.  He managed to catch himself against the wall but Gwen saw his body quivering violently.

She put Mince down and sprinted toward him.  “Talon,” she said urgently, her voice low.  She gripped his arm.  Any fear she had harbored because of his rage vanished in the face of her worry.  “Talon, what’s wrong?”

He gazed at her as if he didn’t recognize her, his eyes glassy. “Lady,” he whispered, his voice grating like broken steel, more hoarse than hers.  “Forgive me for failing you.”

“Sweet Jesu,” she said, touching his face.  “What happened, Talon?  Are you injured?”

He closed his eyes and pressed her hand more firmly against his cheek.  “Nay.  Somehow the sod managed to escape me.”

“Who?  I don’t understand, Talon.”

His voice breaking with weariness, he told her about the mercenary who ordered her abduction.  “We had him trapped,” he said finally.  “But he escaped and I have no idea how.  I should have ordered the barn burned instead of trying to take him alive.”  Slowly his knees buckled and he slid down the wall with a scrape of armor.