Knight of Westmoorland: The Queen and the warrior (9 page)

Joining him, she held the stem of a flower, stroking the petals across his face.

“The sun is so hot,” he murmured.

“Yes, it is.” The flower transformed into a damp rag, as she continued to caress his face with it. “Shh. Rest.”

He didn’t want to rest. He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her down beside him, nuzzling his face in her hair.

“You are so beautiful,” he whispered.

“Shh, my warrior. Rest.”

Sighing, he raised his hand to touch her face, his chest tight with emotion.

“I love you, my Queen. My beautiful Queen Gracelyn. I have always loved you and I always will.”

“Shhh. Declan, you
must
rest…”

The morning sun was bright, shining in the window, when the warrior opened his eyes. He turned immediately to the chair beside his bed.

It was empty.

Frantically, he searched the chamber for her.

She wasn’t there.

Gaius sat at the table across the room, flipping through a book and scribbling notes.

“Gaius…?” His voice was hoarse; his throat was parched.

The physician jumped up, knocking his chair over, and ran across the room. “You are awake. How do you feel?” As he asked, he pressed the back of his hand against the warrior’s forehead. “Your fever is staying down, I think. That’s a good sign.”

“I feel…tired.” He felt weaker than he’d felt in days. “Where is the Queen?”

Gaius studied him a moment and then reached for the mug. “Water?”

It surprised the warrior that he needed the old man’s help to raise his head from the pillow. He drank the offered water quickly and then asked again. “Gaius, where is she? Is she all right?”

Gaius returned the mug to the table. “Do you remember very much about last night?”

He frowned, thinking. “I remember…talking with Queen Gracelyn, after you bandaged my chest…” He remembered
that
conversation clearly.

“After that. Later on.”

He didn’t remember anything after that. “No. Gaius, what’s happened?
Where is the Queen?
”

Gaius sighed. “Your fever rose last night. You were…semi-conscious…delirious, even. You…” He paused to clear his throat. “You declared your love for Gracelyn.”

The warrior caught his breath, his heart pounding. It had just been a dream…hadn’t it?

“And I
must
ask you…did you mean it?” The older man’s eyes narrowed, searching the warrior’s face.

The warrior took a deep breath. “Gaius, I have loved her from the first moment I saw her, nearly ten years ago. And I will take my last breath loving her.”

Nodding, Gaius expelled his air. He patted the warrior’s leg and turned away.

“Wait! Gaius, where is she? Did…” Fear rose in his throat and he swallowed it down. “Did she leave because of what I said?”

“No, no. She…” Gaius paused, before continuing. “She took ill this morning. She’s resting.”

“What’s wrong with her?” Guilt twisted in his stomach. She had kept her vigil by his side and was now suffering for it. “Will she be all right?”

“She will be fine. Just a touch of flu, I think. She just needs to rest. As do you. The fever took a lot out of you, I fear. But if it stays down today, you will feel much better tomorrow. I will have breakfast brought up.”

His fever stayed down throughout the day. He slept between breakfast and lunch.

After lunch, the Queen’s maidservant came into the room, bearing a tray of assorted items. Her eyes flittered between the two men.

“Um, Queen Gracelyn asked me to wash and shave him,” she said timidly.

“Oh?” Gaius sounded surprised. “Then, go ahead.”

The warrior shifted anxiously in his bed. “How is she? Is she feeling better?”

“Oh, yes. She…” The maidservant hesitated, looking over at Gaius, as though she was unsure how much to say. Gaius, bent over his books, didn’t even look back up. “She is much better, but she is still tired and has no appetite.”

The young girl started at his feet. The warrior closed his eyes and relaxed his body, enjoying the feel of the wet rag on his legs but his mind was in gear, wondering. The maidservant began washing his inner thigh and her hand inadvertently brushed across his cock. It jumped at the contact.

Down, boy
. He thought. There was no need to embarrass the girl. He inhaled slowly through his nose, as deeply as his healing ribs would allow, and then blew out through his mouth. It helped to calm both his groin and his mind.

But when she began on the front of his thigh, his calm all but deserted him. Although her touch was soft, the rag was rough against his tender skin. He winced, inhaling through clenched teeth.

She looked up and met his eyes, aghast. “I’m sorry,” she said softly.

He shook his head. “It’s all right. It isn’t your fault.”

“Emily Rose.” Gaius crossed the room to join them. “I’ll do that, where he was burned. You get his hair and face.”

“Thank you, Gaius,” she whispered gratefully.

By the time Emily Rose started shaving him, Gaius had finished washing his groin and thighs and had pulled the sheet up over his midsection. The warrior lay still, feeling the razor scrape over his face, while the physician gently washed his chest. Unable to wince, he curled his hands into fists, remembering how Queen Gracelyn had always slipped her hand into his at these moments.

Her continued absence bothered him. He was glad she was resting, but he missed her fiercely. Since she was feeling better, would she return? His body clean and his face freshly shaved, would she lay with him in bed?

He closed his eyes and pictured her face. The thought of being inside her again and being able to
see
, to watch her expressions as he pleased her…his heart started to pound and his heat rose.

But as his erection grew, it stretched the healing skin and the pain took his breath away. He returned to his relaxation technique to calm himself and contemplated this dilemma.

He didn’t know if he
could
pleasure the Queen, right now. He didn’t know if he had the energy, or could withstand the pain…

But he was willing to try.

For supper, they brought him more food than he could eat. Afterwards, with his stomach full, his eyelids became heavy and he dozed.

“Gaius, what should I do?”

Queen Gracelyn’s troubled voice penetrated his sleep. Instantly awake, he opened his eyes expectantly, searching for her.

She was not in the room. Gaius stood by the open door.

“Your Highness, I’m afraid this is a decision only you can make. I cannot help you.”

“But how can I possibly choose?” Her voice broke.

“Hmm. Perhaps it is not a matter of choosing. Perhaps it is only a matter of doing what is right.”

“How do I
know
what is right?”

“Gracie…” The old man’s voice was quietly soothing. “You were an exceptionally bright child and you’ve grown into a wise and discerning woman. You know what is right.”

The Queen was quiet for a moment and then sighed. “Prepare the potion, Gaius,” she said, softly but calmly.

“Yes, my Queen.”

As Gaius turned from the door, the warrior closed his eyes, feigning sleep. Instinct told him the conversation was not meant for his ears. He heard Gaius at the table across the room, and cracked his eyes open.

Gaius had a beaker in one hand, pouring liquid and powder into it from several different containers. He was mixing a potion.

But what kind of potion? The warrior hadn’t taken a dose of potion in several days and was sure the other bottle wasn’t empty.

Gaius swirled the potion in the beaker, sniffed it, and then poured it into a medicine bottle from the cabinet. Looking up, he caught the warrior watching him.

“Are you hungry?” Gaius asked, curling his fingers around the small bottle, hiding it in his hand.

“I couldn’t possibly eat again, so soon.”

“Oh. Well, then. Water?” As he picked up the mug, he set the bottle in his hand on the table, picked up the other bottle and slid his hand into his pocket. A sleight of hand, switching the two medicine bottles. The warrior caught it but pretended otherwise, wondering what Gaius was planning.

He sipped the water hesitantly. He didn’t think they had drugged it but at this point, he was sure of nothing.

Setting the mug on the table, Gaius picked up the new medicine bottle.

The warrior shook his head, turning away. “I don’t want a potion. Gaius, I don’t
need
it. I’m not in pain.”

“Hmm. Take a dose, anyway. Just to be sure you rest well tonight.”

Locking his gaze with the physician’s, he continued to resist. “How is Queen Gracelyn? Is she feeling better?”

Gaius hesitated, still holding the bottle. “Yes. I think she is just over-tired.”

“Because of me.” He sighed. “I’m glad she has been resting, but between you and me…I have missed her today, Gaius.”

Gaius patted his arm. “I’m sure you have. You will see her tomorrow. Now, take the potion…”

Again, the warrior turned his head. He decided to take the direct approach. “Gaius, what’s going on? I’ve had three
big
meals today, been cleaned up and shaved; I haven’t seen the Queen all day and now you’re pushing a potion on me, when I’ve gone several days without it. Something’s up, Gaius. Tell me.
Please.
”

It was the old man’s turn to sigh. “You need to rest well tonight. And that’s all I can tell you. Now, take the potion. Don’t make me call a soldier…”

With a final sigh, the warrior accepted the medicine. Swallowing it, he gagged. This potion was strongly acrid, but with a sweet after-taste. He rolled onto his side, coughing. It brought tears to his eyes.

Chapter Eight

H
E WAS BEING MOVED, SUPPORTED by his arms with his hands shackled in front of him. He fought to open his eyes. He could see his legs, in between two soldiers, his feet dragging the floor.

He raised his eyes and recognized his surroundings.

He was back in the dungeon. The Rack was sitting in the center of the chamber.

“Nooo,” he moaned. He felt numb. Paralyzed. What kind of potion had Gaius given him?

They laid him on the Rack, securing his ankles to the bottom and his hands to the top. He struggled futilely, both against the soldiers and against the drug in his system. He looked around and his eyes widened in horror, as Marcus stepped out of the throng of soldiers, a sneer on his face.

He sat bolt upright, gasping, looking around in panic.

He was still in Gaius’ chambers.

It had been a dream, a
nightmare.
The worst one, yet.

He raised a trembling hand and raked it through his hair. And stopped, staring at his hand in astonishment as he realized…

The shackles were gone.

He moved his feet, under the sheet. They were unchained, as well.

He was free.

His eyes searched the shadows of the room, lit by only one candle, on the bedside table.

He was free and he was
alone!

With his mind still reeling from the medicine, he tried to understand. His chest heaved.

She was letting him escape.

Looking around the room again, he rubbed his hand over his face. The chair, though unoccupied, was not empty. His cleaned and neatly folded clothes lay on the seat.

He swung his legs off the bed and reached for the shirt. Putting it on, he winced. Moving, stretching his skin, brought some pain, but he could deal with it.

When he pulled his pants from the chair, something fell to the floor. Bracing his hands on the side of the bed, he looked for the item. His saw his boots, on the floor beside the chair, but that wasn’t what had fallen.

Then he saw it, just under the edge of the bed. A dagger, sheathed in leather.

His
dagger.

He bent down to retrieve it and his head swam. He gulped, sitting upright until the dizziness stopped, and then put his feet in the legs of the pants. Standing, he leaned on the chair for balance while he pulled the pants to his waist and tied the drawstring.

Stumbling to the window, he breathed in the fresh night air. It helped to clear his mind. He took note of his location, orienting himself.

He was on the second floor, the side of the castle. Below and to the right was a door.

He stayed at the window for several minutes. The air was cool and felt good on his face. His legs were trembling, his body weakened from the time he’d spent in bed and everything that had happened before.

But the food he’d eaten that day had strengthened his body. He felt exhilarated.

He sat in the chair and put on his boots.

As he’d expected, the halls of the castle were empty. He quickly found a set of stairs and the door he’d seen was at the bottom of them.

The road was deserted. The sky was black and the moon was low on the horizon. It would be dawn, soon.

Staying against the wall, he crept towards the front of the castle. He would need to find food, a flask of water and a horse to get him home.

At the corner, he peeked around the wall.

A lone figure was coming towards him. An old peasant woman, wearing a dark hooded cape. Her tangled gray hair stuck out from under the hood in disarray.

He pressed himself into the shadows, withdrawing his dagger. When she stepped past him, he grabbed her from behind, clamping his hand over her mouth. He showed her the dagger, its blade glinting in the moonlight, but didn’t hold it against her.

“I’m not going to hurt you. I need food and a flask of water,” he whispered, his mouth close to her ear. He felt lightheaded, adrenaline coursing through his veins.

She didn’t struggle against him. He slowly took his hand from her mouth, prepared to return it if she screamed.

“Unhand me.
Now.
”

The voice that quietly commanded him wasn’t aged. Gasping, he released her and stepped back, yanking the hood of her cape down.

Turning towards him, Queen Gracelyn quickly pulled the hood over her head again.

“Y-your Highness,” he stammered. “What…? Why are you dressed in such manner?” He reached out his hand and toyed with a gray curl of hair. It was sewn into the hood of the cape.

She smiled. “Well, I can’t risk anyone seeing the
Queen
give you aid, now can I?”

He fell back against the wall, the dizziness returning. Wetting his lips, he gazed at her. “Are you…better? Gaius said…” he shook his head, trying to clear his mind. “He said you were ill…”

“I am feeling better now. And I
couldn’t
let you go without saying good-bye.” Pulling a strap from her shoulder, she handed him a knapsack. “Food. Plenty enough to get you home. And water.”

He took the sack, automatically putting his arms through the straps and centering it on his back. His thoughts were reeling. Not only had she allowed him to escape, she was providing him with rations.

His mind churned. To whom did he owe his loyalty? The king he despised, especially now? Or the Queen he loved?

“Your Highness, I don’t know what King William is planning.” The words poured out of him on a torrent. “My only instructions were to observe. But if he speaks of attacking, if he asks about your army, I will
lie
. I will tell him…” He stumbled over his words. “I will tell him you have allies, standing ready to defend Cambridge.”

Tears shone in her eyes. She slipped her hand into his, squeezing it. “Thank you, Sir Declan. Now, Raleigh is at the back of the castle, waiting for you with a mount. Gallant is old and would not be able to carry a fully armored knight into battle, but he is still strong and has a great spirit. He will get you home.”

The warrior’s heart filled within his chest. She had let him escape, given him rations and now, a horse!
He dropped onto one knee, bowing his head in reverence. “
My Queen,
” he breathed.

Queen Gracelyn stepped closer to him, running her fingers through his hair and stroking his face. He pressed his cheek against her hand. Cupping his chin, she raised his head and gazed into his eyes.

“My love, did you really think I visited Westmoorland to see William? I visited so often to see
you!
But I never knew how you felt…” She trailed off, stroking her thumb across his face. “Why did you never approach me? As a Knight, you could have approached me. Other knights did…”

He closed his eyes in shame. “I am not nobility,” he said, his voice breaking. “I am a Knight, but I will never be a Lord…”

“Declan, you are more noble than most Lords! Nobility isn’t how you were born; it is how you
live!
That
is what matters to me!”

He opened his eyes and gazed up at her. She smiled down at him, her eyes warm.

Rising to his feet, he took her in his arms and crushed her to his chest, ignoring the pain caused by the pressure. He touched his lips to hers.

She returned his kiss passionately, molding her body against his. His groin responded, but he shut his mind to the pain and kissed her.

Finally, she pulled away from him, her hand pressing on his chest. “Go.” Her voice broke. “You must go.”

He nestled his face into the hood of her cape, caressing her neck with his lips. “Say the word and I will stay. I will be
Your
knight,
Your
warrior. King William be damned…”

“No,” she whispered. Her hands on his face, she stepped away, gazing up at him. “Not now. Not yet. There will be peace between our realms again.
Soon,
I hope. At that time, return to me, my love. But now…” Tears filled her eyes and wet her cheeks. “You must go. If you are recaptured…I couldn’t bear it. Godspeed, my love, my warrior Declan…”

She quickly pressed her lips to his and then turned away, disappearing around the corner in the direction from which she came.

He stared after her, torn. He didn’t want to leave. Home for him, now, was wherever she was. When he was knighted, he’d sworn his allegiance to Westmoorland and King William, but the importance of that paled in comparison to his love for Queen Gracelyn.

Dropping his head, he sighed, knowing she was right. If he stayed now, it would be an act of treason. It would put his family at risk and endanger the chance of peace returning to their realms. He could serve her better by returning to Westmoorland and befriending Queen Jenna. He would do everything he could to hasten the day when Westmoorland and Cambridge were allies, again.

The day that he would return to Queen Gracelyn.

He turned and ran down the side of the castle, rounding the corner to find Raleigh anxiously waiting, holding the reins of a saddled horse.

He swung onto the black horse and rode away, his heart exploding as his hope swelled.

Many would still call it inappropriate: a blacksmith’s son who became a knight and fell in love with a Queen. But it was no longer futile.

For she loved him too.

The End (of the beginning…)