The Knight's Scarred Maiden

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An honest barmaid. A stubborn one, but a battle on the cakes wasn’t one he wanted to win. He shrugged. ‘So I’ll take your cakes. You keep the money. You’ll need it.’

‘It’s not mine either. It’ll return to Rudd’s hiding place as soon as we’re done here.’

A moment of displeasure and frustration. He didn’t want that vermin anywhere near his money. She made the cakes, she deserved the money. Especially since he fully intended to leave her in this village.

But his feeling of guilt wasn’t what alerted him to something else she said. Guilt he could live with.

No, what caused him to look over her shoulder at his men and narrow his eyes, was that she acted as though they were bartering. As far as he was concerned, the transaction was over. He reached down and took one of the sacks at her feet.

‘I want you to take me with you,’ she said.

Rhain could feel his men’s eyes on him. He most definitely could feel Nicholas’s smirk even from this distance. How long had she been here before he arrived? Long enough for his horse to be saddled and prepared. Long enough for her to approach the men and ask to leave with them. And Nicholas, who knew what happened last night, knew he’d spent most of the time tending to her injuries, giving her his tunic for binding. Nicholas, who’d obviously come to the wrong conclusion.

Take her with them? Not on his life. ‘No.’

‘I won’t be any burden; I can hold my own.’

Hold her own? He could barely look at her this morning, though it was the first time he saw her fully in the light.

The heavy shrouding mist made her look more bedraggled than ever before. Bedraggled? She looked like she was in pain. It pained him to look at her. It wasn’t only the bruises on her face or the way she held herself protectively.

It was what was in her eyes. She didn’t expect him to say no to her request and she took his refusal personally.

He couldn’t have anyone on this journey, let alone a lone woman. No matter what she said next he would not take her. His men were openly glaring at him now and some of the Flanders men had stepped closer to her. He didn’t care if they didn’t like his judgement. His men would be better off without him as well, and if he made it to Edward’s camp, he fully intended to leave them there.

‘You aren’t in any condition to travel.’

She winced as if he slapped her across the cheek. ‘I’m stronger than I look.’

He knew she was stronger than she looked; her standing before him was testament to that. Her determination to be part of a band of mercenaries showed her bravery, but he could see the trembles beneath. Despite himself, he admired her standing firm.

If he didn’t have someone after him, would he take her? Given his anger at just the thought of last night, he knew the answer. Unfortunately for them both, he didn’t have the luxury of such questions. Though he had been taught a lesson, Rudd might try to harm her, but he was too much of a coward to kill her. Reynold would.

‘Do you know what we are?’

‘Mercenaries,’ she said evenly.

‘Then you know we murder and thieve for a living. Can you kill and steal?’ He stared pointedly until her eyes turned mutinous. ‘I didn’t think so. You are of no use to us. You will only be a burden.’

* * *

Helissent forced herself to look directly into Rhain’s gaze, clear as anything despite the hood he wore. Forced herself not to turn when his eyes roved all over her features taking in every old and new injury. Out of a lifetime of habit, she turned her head to display her scarred side. Felt his eyes there, but they didn’t stay and he didn’t wince or show pity.

It was probably because he already took his fill of her scars last night.

The moment Rhain left last night, she’d planned her escape. It didn’t matter how much Rhain or his man Nicholas threatened Rudd. They would be gone and Rudd would seek his vengeance. She couldn’t remain.

There was no home for her any more. She had to find a home of her own and the only way to do that was to get out of the village. But a woman travelling alone wouldn’t get very far. She had to travel with this man. This man who told her he wouldn’t take her.

‘I was told you intend to travel north. I merely want passage to York. I can cook. I know you have no one doing that for you now.’

A certain light entered his eyes. A calculating disapproval. She wasn’t sure as he eyed the men behind her. ‘You were told our destination and told we had no one to cook for us.’ Then he raised one sardonic brow and she felt all the mockery of all the ages bearing down on her. ‘These men are not pampered and do not need fine fare.’

She wasn’t prepared for him to say no, let alone a rebuttal, but she wouldn’t give up. ‘I can help with horses, or generally. I hardly eat anything at all.’

He slowly shook his head through her suggestions and his lips turned almost cruel. ‘If there’s a woman in the camp, there would be only one reason she was there.’

At first, she didn’t understand. There was nothing in her history to allow her to understand. It was only how the men behind him suddenly stiffened and shifted. It was merely the cutting cruelty of his voice that reminded her about last night. Last night when he rescued her from those men, who’d almost raped her.

Did he believe she’d burst into womanly tears and run away? Never. He was telling her if she went with them she’d be a camp whore. She didn’t blush because she wasn’t capable. Even so, she wanted to laugh. Broken, brittle, but genuine all the same. Did he think his men would actually want her? Nobody would want her. She didn’t even want herself. She hadn’t saved her sister from the fire as she promised—like a coward she wanted the flames to consume her, too. Now she wore the deep scars of that shame.

And all of that, though true, wasn’t at the heart of the matter. Because last night she was almost raped or worse and he had saved her. She did know one truth. He wasn’t Rudd. ‘Are you telling me I’ll be treated worse than I was last night?’

The brackets around his tight jaw and mouth didn’t soften with remorse or pity. Instead, a muscle jumped in his jaw.

Then he flipped his cape to the side and reached in a pouch around his waist. She heard the unmistakable sound of coins as he opened his hand and offered them to her without looking at the amount.

When she didn’t step forward, he threw them on to the bag at her feet and addressed the youngest one in the group who had walked closer to her. In fact, all the men almost circled her. Their frowns were fierce and she felt a shiver of nervousness.

She didn’t know these men despite approaching them this morning. Despite speaking to the man called Nicholas, who suffered from a sword scar across one eye and was larger than any man had the right to be.

The rest had stayed quiet as she’d talked to Nicholas. Some had eyes as cold and unforgiving as any mercenary’s eyes, while others appeared merely curious. It was Nicholas who was friendly, though he seemed to have some agenda when he said she could wait for Rhain to arrive. So that’s all she did. Wait, while shivering from the mist and trembling from the pain and exhaustion. She waited.

Now these men looked as though they meant to haul her away, so she widened her stance. She waited because there was no other place for her to go. She’d fought those men last night and she would do it again.

Rhain faced them all and pointed to the boy. ‘Take those bags and help her return home.’

When he turned to her, she felt his stare, felt the animosity from him. She had meant to insult him with her comment and succeeded. He’d saved her and she’d lumped him in with her would-be rapists. But he still refused to take her.

After his generous coin for her cakes, after he complimented them and her, after he saved her, she thought he was kind. But in the light of morning, she reflected on the other sides to him. The fact he was a mercenary and he kept his hood up, as if hiding his face, like a wanted man. The fact he knocked those men unconscious with deadly accuracy and today she heard the cold hardness in his voice. Then there were his shadows. Always his shadows.

She didn’t know this man at all. He fully intended to leave her here even knowing Rudd awaited her. She had no other compensation to offer for her passage, nothing to barter with except his sweet tooth.

‘I made the rest of the cakes,’ she said in a rush.

Stillness. Unnatural. As if she’d shocked him. No sharp breath, no blinking of his amber eyes. His face, his body as unmoving as stone now covered with heavy mist that was turning to rain falling harder and soaking them.

It darkened his clothes, his countenance. His implacable eyes swirled with more emotions than she could name. More emotions than he’d shown last night when he stopped those men. When he tended her wounds.

‘You made twenty-five cakes last night,’ he said, enunciating each word until they held a bite.

‘And I made twenty-five more this morning,’ she added.

He leaned forward as if to strangle her and just held back. Even so, she felt his anger, surprise and displeasure as his eyes raked down her now-drenched form.

She knew she was lacking, knew she was disfigured. But she could cook and bake; she was resourceful. When he left last night, she’d gathered her strength as she thought through her plan of leaving the only home she had. When she’d made up her mind, she left for the kitchens.

It made sense for Rhain to take her. He had to know her situation. There was no way she could get his money back and consequently she made the rest of the cakes. Even though the kitchen’s heat had pained her more than ever and her ribs protested her every move. But it was worth it because she wanted to thank him for last night and for the expected ride today.

She didn’t think it would come to this. That she would be bargaining a life for herself over some flour and honey. That she would be using a cake to prove she was worthy of him taking her.

‘We have no horse for you,’ he said.

The village didn’t have any spares. ‘I didn’t expect a horse.’

Her heart flipped and churned until she was sure he would notice. Something had changed, but she tried not to get her hopes up. He wasn’t saying no any more, though nothing he said yet proved otherwise. He merely talked of horses and convenience, but those were obstacles, not refusal. This couldn’t truly be about his sweet tooth, but exactly what it was about, she didn’t know.

His tightly locked countenance told her nothing. Especially since even though his hood was up, he was almost too precisely beautiful to be real. The only indications that he was real were the slight exasperation of his breath and the fleeting emotions in his amber eyes.

‘I’m not a savior,’ he said.

She, of all people, knew no one was and that she didn’t deserve one. ‘I’m not asking you to be.’

He nodded once, scanned his eyes around the men before he said, ‘She rides with me.’

Chapter Six (#u3a5d942b-c6bb-57e8-b9f0-957e822ed333)

Rhain regretted his action immediately. It wasn’t the delay of departing the village, though by the time they strapped Helissent’s few possessions to the horses, and sat her atop his own, the rain had begun to fall in earnest.

The sky was darkening in every direction. The storm was coming and soon even a modicum of comfort, of carrying on a conversation, would be denied them.

Even that he could ignore. He couldn’t ignore the woman bundled until he shouldn’t feel her and yet her trembles became his. He didn’t know why she trembled, it could be the cold. It could be fear. Over Rudd and leaving her home? Or did she fear them? If she did fear his band of mercenaries, it wasn’t enough to make her stay away.

It didn’t matter he and Nicholas came from nobility. Their lineage was in the past. They were no more or less than what they made of themselves now, which were killers for a price.

Yet this woman had begged to travel with them. He didn’t need to guess why and anyone who had suffered as she had would have to be stubborn and brave.

But his admiration for her or her stubbornness wasn’t why she rode with him, why he felt her trembles. Why he hadn’t kept his hood up for her last night.

For he hadn’t.

And she hadn’t done what every other woman had ever done. He’d expected it, had taken advantage of it at one point of his life. His face had simply been his reality.

She’d stared and then averted her eyes. It had been almost amusing, if not for the disconcerting fact he actually wanted her eyes on him.

He didn’t recognize what it was about her, but he had felt it the moment he entered the inn and it raged like an inferno through him when he realized those men meant to harm her.

Then in the quiet of her home, she’d allowed his touch. She had braced herself, hid her gasps, but she still let him close enough to feel her.

He hadn’t thought to brace himself as he touched her. He’d been intent only to see if she’d fractured a rib, only wanted to relieve her pain with the ointment. So he hadn’t been ready for how his own body reacted.

The soft heat of her skin, the way she smelled. The feel and textures of her underneath his fingertips. All of it should have made him only think of her injuries, but that wasn’t what he had felt at first.

First he felt her as a man would a woman and desire recklessly arced through him. He couldn’t move, couldn’t speak because he had to choke the sounds of need clamoring suddenly inside him.

Unexpected, and all because of her. Only her. His reaction had nothing to do with his lack of female companionship. Over the years more women than he could count had bent over him or abruptly sat in his lap. Trailed their hands and fingers along any part of him they could reach and he’d felt nothing.

All of that dead to him because he had to make it so. Because when he’d learned the truth of his lineage, he could never take matters further with a woman.

So he hadn’t been prepared he’d feel anything when he touched her. He shouldn’t have felt anything when she was hurting.

All of it was made worse when she took his frozen state as revulsion because she spoke those broken words about her scars. Only then did he realize too late what else he felt.

The roughness warring with the softness of her skin underneath his fingers. That was enough to jar him, to remind him she was injured, and he needed to check for broken bones and apply the ointment.

But it didn’t stop his desire for her, not when she inspected herself and he’d wished it could be his fingers trailing along the front of her ribcage and the gentle swells hinted there.

Desire, which was all the more torturous when he yanked off his tunic and watched her eyes widen, her lips part.

Felt the echoing of his desire from the air on his bared skin and the tightening of his body. As he stood half-naked in the dark intimate quiet of the room, she was suddenly someone he needed. His mind and body in complete conflict with each other, he’d viciously stripped his tunic and tied the ends.

All to bind her and unerringly tighten his need as he walked slowly around and watched what the tight binding revealed, what the thin chemise did not.

Her slender shape, the curves of her breasts, the indentation of her waist, the breadth of her collarbones, the curve of her jaw. Her long, long legs. Another circle and he knew exactly the height of those legs, the width and shape of her hips, the location of each jutting bone and all her womanly softness.

All of her, every inch of her in proportion to him. Just a few inches shorter, just enough so when he pressed and lifted her against him, she’d fit. They’d fit.

He couldn’t leave her home quick enough. To get out into the cool night air. To Nicholas’s sharp wit and even sharper watchful eyes.

But not fast enough. He’d heard her thank him and felt the visceral regret, the frustrating anger that his life wasn’t different and could never be. Then he’d closed the door and left her behind.

Except she didn’t stay behind. He did what he could to separate from her on this journey. Kept his own conflicted counsel, allowed her to find her own way when they stopped to rest. The men, at least, fed her and shared their water.

It did no good, he still felt her trembles and he bundled her as much as he could against the cold. It wasn’t her fault he didn’t have enough sense to get out of the rain.

* * *

The day was ending and Helissent could barely acknowledge her surroundings. Hours like this in the downpour. They didn’t even try to stay dry. There was no point. The wind would merely sweep away capes and blankets and hoods.

Maybe it was the rain, but there was no rest. Allowing everyone to relieve themselves only once, Rhain kept the slow but unrelenting pace.

And the almost brutal silence. It was as if he said what he needed to and then refused to say any more. She thought at first it was the rain, but the others talked though they sputtered and shouted to be heard.

No, it was only for her he kept the quiet. Kept his anger. He had not wanted her on this trip and let her know his displeasure. Which made his reason for making her ride with him all the more confusing.

As did him swiftly pulling his cloak over him and her, and yanking her blanket to cover her. All of it seemed to cushion them from the driving rain, but didn’t soften his utter silence. Subsequently, she was left with only her thoughts, only what she could observe. Both were like a downpour on her senses.

She’d left her home. Her village. A place where people knew who she was, who knew what happened to her and allowed her still in their presence.

She hadn’t thought of that when she decided to leave. She had only been thinking it wasn’t safe any more. But was she any safer outside her village, and from the villagers, who knew her home had burned to the ground with her family in it? Who knew she survived when she shouldn’t have, when she tried not to because she failed to save her sister as she had promised?