Immortal Hope (33 page)

Anne closed her eyes on a wince. Reaching for him, she found his shoulder and steadied herself against the sudden spinning of the room. Battle. She hadn’t heard wrong. Though no one had mentioned the nail, he’d been injured the last time he fought. What if this time was worse? “Why you?” she blurted out. “Can’t he send someone else?”

Merrick covered her hand with his and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Your concern touches me, Anne. Yet ’tis my duty to command. I am the eldest. I am sent on every mission, unless I am away.” Though he offered her a smile, the light in his eyes didn’t match the gesture. He would never confess it, but he worried.

“Don’t go,” she whispered.

Chuckling, he released her hand to pull his shirt over his head. “I must. Hand me my sword, please.”

Snatching what little courage she could from the knowledge that he was guarding a gate, not a sacred nail, Anne bent down and wrapped her fingers around the cool metal sheath. Standing, she hesitated, her gaze searching Merrick’s grim expression. He wasn’t telling her something—she could sense it in the depths of her soul. The last time he’d left, he hadn’t looked so preoccupied. True, he’d been angry then. But this was different. This hinted at danger Merrick didn’t feel the last time he went to fight.

Desperate for answers, she set the sword on the bed and grabbed for his hand. Opening her mind, she reached for her second sight like a drowning man might reach for a floating log.

Please, God.

Merrick pulled at his hand, but she clung tighter. With a sigh of resignation, he wound his free arm around her waist and dragged her into his lap. She barely had time to realize his intention before he settled his mouth over hers and drew her into a leisurely kiss. The rapid beating of her heart subsided as his tongue glided against hers. Slowly, tenderly, he took her back to the night before, the way he’d loved her so thoroughly she’d fallen asleep in his arms.

As he eased the kiss to a lingering close, he cupped the side of her face in his hand. “Do not worry for me, damsel. I shall return to you tonight, and we will resume this kiss.” His thumb brushed against her cheek, his eyes full of warmth. “Should you need anything whilst I am away, ask Gareth to attend to you.”

That sealed it. Something wasn’t right. Anne didn’t know everything about Merrick, but the fact he would pair her with the man who inadvertently brought them together said more than Merrick’s words. A fresh burst of fear slid through her veins, restoring her heart to its same, erratic beat. What wasn’t he telling her?

“Now dress yourself, damsel, so you may see me to the door.”

Merrick didn’t give her opportunity to argue. Gently, he set her feet on the floor and gave her a push, dislodging her from his lap. With little other option, Anne snatched up her robe and quickly stuffed her arms inside. She belted it tight as Merrick shoved his feet into his boots.

She followed him into the sitting room. “Who’s Fulk?”

One hand on the door, Merrick’s shoulders stiffened. He glanced behind him, his mouth set in a grim line. With a shake of his head, he answered, “We will speak of it tonight.”

Anne hurried across the few feet that separated them and flung her arms around Merrick’s neck. “I don’t want you to go,” she murmured into his shoulder. “Stay, Merrick. You can choose to stay.”

With the patience one might give an obstinate child, Merrick unwound her hands and held them between their bodies. “I do not wish to leave, but ’tis my duty.” He bent down to press a chaste kiss to her lips.

Before she could say anything more, Merrick stepped through the door.

It wouldn’t have mattered if he’d waited. Anne couldn’t speak. She stared, her heart plummeting to her feet. In his last embrace, her second sight had returned with a vengeance. Though she caught only two fleeting glimpses, what she saw chilled her to her soul. A knight, clad similarly as Merrick, brandished an identically plain broadsword. But where Merrick wore white, and his broadsword shone like a well-cared-for blade, this knight dressed in black from mail to surcoat to boots. His sword held the same dark hue.

The chilling vision gave way to what haunted her most—a fleeting glimpse of Merrick dressed for the grave.

She stumbled against a rush of dizziness and clutched at the back of a nearby chair. As certainly as she knew her name, she knew that vile knight waited for Merrick.

*   *   *

Four hours later, Anne left her room long enough to send for Gareth. Knowledge had nothing to do with her summons either—the inner sanctum hadn’t crossed her mind since Merrick’s departure. Preoccupied with worry, she couldn’t tolerate another idle moment of watching the television and pretending Merrick wasn’t in danger. She needed something to do, something to take her mind off the horrible images of Merrick’s funerary. Arguing with the cook presented the perfect outlet. And it gave her the ability to focus on a positive. Something she could do for Merrick, who’d done so much for her, and the rest of his men.

Gareth arrived with a jaunty knock on her door.

Anne leapt off the couch, flipped off the television with a press to the remote, and hurried to the door. Swinging it wide, she nearly threw herself at Gareth, his bright smile had such a profound effect on her taxed nerves.

“Milady.” Gareth caught her hand and brought her knuckles to his mouth. “You called for me?”

“Yes,” she answered with a light laugh. Tugging her hand free before any more damning visions could assault her, she tucked it into her skirt pocket. “I can’t stay here a minute longer. Merrick told me if I needed anything I should send someone for you.”

“Aye, Mikhail informed me of such.”

She backed up a step and opened the door a bit more. “You don’t mind baby-sitting then?”

Gareth’s soft brown eyes lit with humor. “Nay, I do not mind. ’Tis a pleasure to spend time in your company. Du Loire is a very lucky man.”

Anne felt the heat climb into her cheeks and dipped her head to hide her embarrassment. “Yes, well, let’s get one thing clear. No more of this formality. Deal? You are Gareth, and I’m Anne. Not Lady Anne, not milady, just plain old Anne.”

His mouth curved into a boyish grin, setting off that charming dimple again. “If you shall admit you are not plain, nor old, I shall concede to call you Anne.”

“Whatever,” Anne grumbled beneath her breath. “Let’s go. I need to speak to the cook, and I need you there in case he gets angry with me.” Ushering him out of the door, she pulled it tight behind her. With a wave of an impatient hand, she indicated he should descend the stairs.

“Why would Simon become angry with you?”

It was Anne’s turn to grin. With a mischievous wrinkle of her nose, she answered, “Because I’m changing his menu and hiring a new cook. The men here are being tortured with their meals.”

Gareth stopped on the stairs, his loud laugh echoing through the tall-ceilinged enclosure. He fished at his belt for something, then produced a small dagger. Flipping it so he held the point, he passed her the polished bone hilt. “Mayhap you best carry this. Simon is difficult, to say the least.”

Anne pushed aside the blade and shook her head. “That’s why I have you. Now let’s get this over with.”

For a fraction of a minute, the teasing light left Gareth’s eyes and his stare became serious. He pushed the dagger at her once again. “If Merrick feels you must be escorted through these halls, ’twould be wise for you to keep this close.”

She stared at the long thin blade, trying to ignore the unease that filtered into her veins. Carrying a weapon felt out of place. Wholly against her character. But two men now expressed concern over her safety—Merrick in word, Gareth in deed. She gave him a hesitant nod. “Keep it for me, for now. I have no place to put it.”

He sheathed the dagger, and his smile returned. “Very well. To Master Simon’s chambers then.”

Following on Gareth’s heels, Anne wound her way through the large commons. As they passed, a group of men gathered around the communal television turned to stare, and Anne edged closer to Gareth. After her encounter with Ranulf, she had no intentions of giving any of the strangers a chance to separate her from her guard. Once was enough. Maybe the dagger wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

He set his hand in the small of her back and nudged her in front of him. “They are good men. When your intended is announced, you will be surprised by their loyalty.”

“Shouldn’t they be loyal now?”

“They are, in their hearts.” He indicated a set of double doors with a nod of his head. “But you cannot comprehend how long we have awaited the seraphs’ arrival. Until your oaths are sworn, the hope lives on that mayhap they contain the mark needed. Mayhap you overlooked something.”

Backwards logic as far as Anne was concerned. But his next statement made far more sense.

“We were born of a time when all was free for the taking if we worked hard enough to attain it. Loyalty to man outweighed loyalty to woman. She could be had, as long as the ties of brotherhood were not strained. Once a man set claim, the noble distanced himself. Aye, those of lesser hearts paid little heed to spoken vows, but the men within these walls, Anne, are not of that cloth.”

Once again, she was reminded she’d walked into a world straight out of the twelfth century. Gareth’s logic was the truest statement of the rule and laws that bound medieval society she had ever heard. All her studies, all the research did nothing to drive the reality home. She nodded slowly, comprehending far more than Gareth’s simple statement.

He stopped in front of a wooden door beside a set of surprisingly modern chrome swinging doors, through which she glimpsed an even more surprising modern kitchen.

“Master Simon,” Gareth called as he banged on the door. “You have a visitor.”

The man who answered looked nothing like the rest of the knights. Long gray hair tumbled past his shoulders. Watery gray eyes glinted bright above a neatly trimmed salt-and-pepper beard. Stockier than the knights, he dressed in a long black robe marked with a red cross that he had tied beneath his right shoulder, concealing the remnants of his arm.

“What do you want?” he grumbled.

Anne bristled at the gruffness of his gravelly voice and braced herself for inevitable confrontation. Summoning courage, she offered him a smile. “I’d like to talk to you about the menu, Master Simon.”

The old man’s eyes narrowed to suspicious slits. “There is nothing amiss with my menu. I will not have a woman dictating how my kitchens should operate.”

Gareth’s reminder of the men’s mindsets fresh in her memory, Anne recognized pride behind Simon’s rebuke. Suggesting his meals weren’t fitting for the knights would only insult him. Refusing to let his gruffness intimidate her, she strengthened her smile, caught his hand in hers, and changed tactics. “I would never presume to insult your talent or ability. You’ve worked hard, and your skills are notable. But it’s come to my attention that there will be more women here in short order. I thought I might consult with you before they arrived, so you wouldn’t have them in your hair.”

He cocked a wiry eyebrow. “Aye?”

“Oh yes.” From the corner of her eye, she caught Gareth’s amused smirk. He turned sideways, as if he surveyed the hall, and she noticed the way he covered his mouth with a false cough.

Encouraged, Anne continued, “I thought we could discuss giving you a staff as well. Trusted cooks—men of course—who would be willing to learn from you. It would give you some time to enjoy your hours off as well. A man with your success shouldn’t have to slave over the oven. He should be able to sit back and admire his accomplishments when he wants to.”

Simon rubbed a gnarled hand over his beard, his expression thoughtful. Anne held her breath, silently praying her attempt at flattery would work. When he nodded at first slowly, then bobbed his head with more enthusiasm, the tension fled her shoulders, and she exhaled deeply.

Simon opened the door wide, revealing a long row of books on the far wall. Colorful titles that stood out against the dark wood shelves and gave the room a cozy feel. “Come inside, Lady Anne. I am of a mind to hear your thoughts.”

CHAPTER
27

As twilight descended on the temple, Anne finished off what could reasonably be called a bowl of soup in a private dining area beside the kitchen. She ate the last of a hunk of dried bread, then pushed the empty bowl aside. Across from her, Gareth folded his hands beneath his chin and fixed her with an amused grin. “You possess the skills to manage vast holdings, Anne. I have never seen Simon more agreeable to change. Are you certain you have not negotiated with servants before?”

Anne returned his grin. “Nope. Just students, professors, and the usual politics associated with higher education.” She stretched and gave into an expansive yawn. “Though it certainly isn’t easy.”

“Are you tired?”

“Yes. That took a lot more work than I expected. I think I’ll go curl up with the TV for a while.”
And wait for Merrick to come home,
she added silently. Lord knew she wouldn’t sleep until he walked through her door. If he didn’t … She shook off the thought along with the chill that filtered through her blood. He’d promised he would come back. As much stock as he put in vows, he wouldn’t break his word. And he hadn’t gone to protect the nail, hadn’t said oaths with her—she needed to remember that. Without the combination, her vision couldn’t come true.

Rising to his feet, Gareth extended his arm. “The men will be dining in the great hall. Allow me to escort you properly.”

“Of course.” Anne pushed her chair away from the table, rose, and fitted her hand in the crook of his elbow. Grateful for the comfortable companionship he provided, she gave him a smile and patted the hand that covered hers. “Thank you, Gareth. I’m sure you had other things you would’ve rather done than sit while I talked about recipes and chefs.”

“And miss the decisions that shall affect my stomach for the rest of my stay in America? Surely, you jest. I would not have spent my afternoon any other way.”

His wink belied his sarcasm, and Anne couldn’t help but chuckle. With a shake of her head, she followed him down the darkened hallway toward the great hall and the common area.