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The squire’s hair was as wet as his master’s. So were his chausses and shirt, though he still wore his.
“Fools, the both of you!” she fussed, stalking over to plop down beside the inviting water. “Do not blame me if you sicken and die.”
“This is high summer and the weather is warm enough,” Henri argued, “and for the first time in near a se’ennight, I feel cool.”
“And what of your wound?” she demanded.
“I removed the wrapping. There is no bleeding and your stitches seem well set. See for yourself.” He opened the blanket to show her.
Iana hastily averted her eyes, but not before she saw that he was still wearing a loincloth to cover his private parts. A wicked spear of disappointment pricked her. For shame, she castigated herself, to be so curious about the body of a man she barely knew. Even had they become the best of friends, she had no cause to think about that part of him.
“Cover yourself until I have time to repair what you have doubtless undone,” she snapped. Treating him as she would a wayward child seemed the best defense against the attraction she felt toward him.
She ignored Everand’s snickering as he relieved her of the food and drink, and the three of them went to sit near the water to eat.
Iana released Tam from her back, rolling her weary shoulders and sighing with relief. Henri gently scooped up the child and set her in his blanket-wrapped lap. “Have you hunger, chérie?” he asked. “Shall I feed you?”
“I will do it,” Iana argued.
Henri looked up at her, apparently concerned. “No, I think not. You need to rest yourself. How are you to look after us if you fall ill of exhaustion?”
He turned to the boy. “Ev, make a small fire and prepare the fish.”
“Fish!” she exclaimed. “How did you get—”
“Tickled them,” he answered. “If one remains very still, it is a simple thing to do.”
She shook her head even as she hurriedly snatched away the flint from Everand. “I do not wish to hear any tall tales. And I’ve told you we cannot have a fire.”
He took the implements from her hand and gave them back to his squire. When his large fingers brushed hers, she froze in place, too stunned by their effect upon her to protest.
“Now rest yourself or bathe or sulk, whatever you wish to do,” he said firmly, “but we shall have a fire and proper food. I have decided.”
The sudden spell broken, Iana glared at him. Imperious idiot. Overbearing oaf. Foolish frog. Though she said naught aloud, she willed him to read the insults in her eyes.
He ignored her, switching his attention to the sack of food. “Now what shall we feed our wee fairy? Sops of milk, eh? Does that sound tasty?” he crooned to the babe.
Little Tam looked up at him, wide-eyed. The only moves she made were to tilt her head and raise a hesitant hand to touch his chest. The child seemed spellbound by the huge knight. Small wonder, Iana thought. If she were not so canny about the true nature of men, she might be enthralled herself.
But he was only a man, even more imperious than the usual male. She had no reason to hate this one, and in fact did not. However, she had excellent cause to deny the prickle of fascination he roused in her. And if she were wise, she would quickly regain the role of leader in this expedition. Otherwise, she might find herself trailing along in his wake, doing his bidding just like his squire.
Son, she reminded herself. He had recognized the lad, which was more than most men did when they had sired one out of wedlock. Waiting this long to do so counted against him in her estimation. Everand was half-grown already. Of course, the delay might have been wise if the mother had wed another who mistook Everand for his own. And Henri had said something about the lad being orphaned once already. For now, Iana would give Henri the benefit of the doubt.
She watched the boy arrange the fish upon skewers and lay them across the stones he’d stacked around the small blaze. How long had it been since she had eaten a meal prepared by someone else? Well over a month, she figured.
As much as she hated the admission, Iana did not enjoy fending for herself. Her brother had been right about how difficult that would prove for her. She’d had to learn how, and it had not been an easy thing. After spending her entire life being waited upon, she found little joy in the menial tasks of cleaning, washing and cooking. Still, she much preferred that to being owned by a man who had the power of life and death over her. Duncan might have provided maids aplenty to keep her hands soft and her back straight, but he had nearly killed her twice.
With hardly any thought to what she was doing, Iana prepared a cup of milk and tore out a soft portion of the bread. Dipping bite-sized pieces of it into the milk, she offered them to Tam. The bairn sat in the knight’s lap, leaning forward to take the food.
“Eats like a baby bird, does she not?” Sir Henri said with a muted chuckle. “I wonder when she will attempt to fly.”
Iana smiled at the baby. “When she is ready. With help, she will stand for a few moments now. And she did creep over to where you were sitting last eve. That is much more than she would do a few days past.”
She reached out and took Tam from him and stood the babe upon her feet, carefully supporting her shaky stance. After a moment, Tam’s spindly legs gave way. Iana held her close and praised her.
“What is wrong with her?” Sir Henri asked in a quiet voice.
“I do not know,” Iana answered honestly. She thought it must be lack of proper food and the fact that Tam had been carried about all her life instead of learning to walk. It could be something else, an illness the child had been born with or a combination of fear and deprivation that caused her to be so. “But she is getting better, I believe.”
He looked both sad and hopeful. Why would he care? Iana wondered. Why should it matter to him whether the babe improved or not? She had seen men totally indifferent when their own female children perished. Despite her intentions to avoid it, Iana’s heart warmed toward this gentle knight who looked upon a peasant’s babe with concern in his eyes.
She smiled at him, only to see his expression change on the instant.
“Someone comes,” he announced in a whisper. “Sit where you are and do not move. Ev, crawl to your right and hide behind those bushes. Keep your blade ready, Son.”
Before Iana knew what had happened, the knight had disappeared silently into the brush to her left, the blanket he had worn left in a wad upon the ground.
She sat alone, Tam in her lap, the fish slowly browning over the small fire nearby. Abandoned.
The racket of someone approaching, leaves crackling underfoot, terrified her into action. She did the only thing she could do. Tumbling Tam upon the wadded blanket, Iana quickly picked up a rock the size of her fist and turned toward the sound of the intruder.
Chapter Four
Her back to the stream, Iana stood, feet braced apart, her skirts concealing Tam from whatever might emerge from the forest. Be it animal or man, she prepared herself to dash out the brains of it, should it dare approach. She sucked in a deep breath and held it as she hefted the rock in her hand.
“Eh! Here, Woad. I thought she’d be headin’ fer th’ water.”
The greedy-looking man from the village plowed through the brush, grinning at Iana, showing gaps where his front teeth should be. He was enormous, his stomach hanging over his belt, his legs like tree trunks. She did not recall his being so dreadfully big.
A mere ghost of a fellow, skin and bones and stringy white hair, followed him into the small clearing.
The large, shaggy-haired one propped his hands on his hips and wrinkled his brows, attempting to menace her, she supposed.
“We’ll be havin’ the balance of that siller now, lass. Dinna be stingy wi’ it.”
Iana shook her head, glaring at him.
“If ye’ve nae more siller, then we’ll see what else ye’ll offer us fer our trouble. Got treasure under th’ skirts there, ha’ ye, lassie?”
“You’ll have naught from me,” she declared. Where the devil was that knight? Henri might not be able to defend her, but the least he could have done was left her his knife. She weighed the rock again, balancing it, adjusting her grip. It would have to do.
The ghostlike one crept forward even as Shaggy stepped closer, tsking at her weapon as if it were but a pinecone she held.
Suddenly the bushes behind the two men came alive. Henri and Everand burst through, blades flashing hither and yon like rapidly struck sparks off flint.
Howls of rage sent birds flying, small beasts scurrying. Iana almost stumbled backward over Tam. Quickly she crouched, scooped up the babe and hid behind the nearest large tree so they would not be trampled.
Openmouthed, she watched. Lightning-quick steel sliced through worn homespun and leather as if it were butter. The two blades were everywhere at once with no pause.
Next she knew, the two thieves stood bare as the day they were hatched, cowering, whining, hands shaking as they covered what they considered their most valuable parts. Iana trembled with laughter and relief.
Henri, still wearing only his loincloth, teased the chest of the shaggy one with the point of his dagger. Truly, the reiver looked a proper beast, with dark hair covering his shoulders and even his back. A ghastly sight.
“Your hide would make a warm pelt, I’d wager,” Henri observed in a menacing growl, slowly shaving a blade-width’s path across the area over the man’s heart. He then wiped the blade upon the man’s bushy beard. “But it would take years to leach out the stink.”
“Please, sar,” Shaggy begged, “we didna mean nae harm. Let us gae and we’ll stay gone.”
Henri turned to Everand. “What think you, my friend? Should we kill them here, or let them go, and give chase? Do you fancy the hunt?” He nodded as if greatly looking forward to the taunting, giving Everand a clue to the answer he expected, since the lad kenned only French.
Everand bobbed his own head, wearing a look of glee, his small knife holding the ghostie’s chin as high as it would go.
“Twenty paces lead, then. Give us a good hunt and we’ll make it a clean kill. Lie down and whimper, I shall skin you alive. Can you count?”
“Aye,” Shaggy croaked, his eyes wide with fear. Ghostie whimpered.
“Off you go on the count of three! One…two…three!” Henri shouted and gave a war whoop any Highlander would envy. Everand chased through the bushes behind the men, shrieking like a banshee all the while.
Iana fell back from her kneeling position, laughing so hard her sides ached. Tam clung to her like a frightened kitten.
Henri crouched beside them, his smile wide. “You are all right, I assume.”
“A-aye, I am well,” she gasped, hardly able to catch her breath. “How in heaven’s name did you do that?”
“But a game,” he said modestly. “It is better played with swords, but we made do well enough.”
“I should say so! They’ll not slow down right soon, if ever.”
He stood and held out his hand. The sight of his muscles shining with sweat shot a hot tingle of appreciation right down the middle of her. For an instant, she could not tear her gaze away.
His soft chuckle warned her that he had noticed her fascination. Iana immediately shut her eyes, cursing herself for her wayward thoughts. She ignored his offer of assistance.
When she dared to look again, he had retreated to the edge of the water and begun wading in, his back to her. With a will of their own, her eyes immediately focused upon his uncovered nether cheeks. “Och, my Lord!” she breathed in absolute awe.
“Oui?” He looked over his left shoulder and raised one dark brow. “Qu’est-ce que c’est?”
What is it? he asks. Iana scoffed. Lust was what it was. Pure, unadulterated lust. And she should be ashamed of herself. Not only ashamed, but terrified to be thinking what she was thinking. Not for promise of paradise should she entertain desire for any man. Such would be her undoing and that was a fact.
“Nothing,” she replied, still a bit breathless, keeping her gaze firmly locked upon the tree beside her. “I was about to offer up a prayer.”
“Say one for me, if you will,” he beseeched, his voice rife with amusement.
Just before he disappeared beneath the surface, she thought she heard him say, “Best pray for colder water.”
For the next two days, Henri did as Iana instructed most of the time, giving good reason whenever he had to object. It was obvious to him that she had traveled little in her life, for she pushed the mounts too hard and, as long as Tam’s supply of milk lasted, forgot about obtaining food for the next meal unless reminded.
She always went alone, as she had before, into a village when they passed one. There she would somehow obtain a loaf of bread, a bit of cheese and another sack of the damned oats.
Now and again she would halt her mare, slip off and disappear into the woods for a short while. Only answering nature’s call, he had thought at first. But she would also return with a few sprigs of plants to tuck inside her pouch. Later, when they stopped to rest, he would be required to swallow her harvest in one form or another or have the leaves crushed and pasted upon his wound. It seemed she was more than adequate in her chosen work, for he felt better each day. The fever was completely gone now and he experienced only slight twinges when he moved about too swiftly.
Every time she touched him and each time he felt her eyes upon him, he cursed his ungallant thoughts. The more his body healed and grew freer of the pain, the more it bedeviled him with its growing insistence upon getting closer to her.
He owed this woman his life. How could he offer her the insult of seduction? True, she was a widow, one with her honor intact. Or so she said. There were times he believed it wholeheartedly, but then there was her child to consider. How had she gotten Tam without putting aside that decency of hers at least one time in her life? He supposed she could have been taken by force, but he shoved aside that abominable thought, deciding he had much rather she had gone willingly to any man, rather than believe she had suffered that.
Though he did sense she was wary of him, it did nothing to discourage his desire. He wanted her so badly he ached with it.
Everand had immediately filled the space Henri deliberately put between himself and the woman. The boy’s constant chatter and exaggerated chivalry annoyed him. He who had always been indulgent toward young squires and their follies of the heart, and he who had also never been jealous in his life. Not even of his unfaithful wife.
“How long before we reach Baincroft, sir?” Ev asked him as they rode.
Henri shrugged. “Well, I know how long it takes to travel from Odun in the Highlands to Baincroft. My brother fetched his bride from near there last year and told me of the time involved. Judging by his journey and the maps I studied long ago, I think we must travel about half that distance. It depends upon how long it takes to find crossing at the Clyde. Our passage around the hills beyond will slow us down even more, however. Three more days is my guess,” he told Everand. “Mayhaps four.”
“There is a ferry north of Largsmuth,” Iana informed him. “We should reach that before tonight.”
“You have traveled this way before, then?”
“Aye, once,” she admitted, “though I have not been any farther east than Largsmuth.”
Henri rode on silently, questioning whether he had any right to ask more about her life and what had brought her to that village where Ev had found her. Thus far, she had not welcomed his curiosity and simply ignored him when he asked anything about her past.
“You must have lived near the Clyde when you were wed,” he said in an offhand way, excusing his prying, since he did not phrase it as a question.
“Nay,” she answered, not looking back at him.
“When you were a lass, then,” he guessed again.
She remained silent.
He smiled to himself. One more piece of the puzzle slipped into place. She was not Iana of Ayr, as she had told them. Ayr was a coastal town not far from where they had come ashore, if he recalled his maps aright. Her girlhood home was near the Firth of Clyde. She’d not denied it. And her grandfather’s Christian name had been Ian. She had let that slip when he was ill. Once he reached Baincroft, he would inquire if anyone there knew a nobleman named Ian who lived near the Clyde.
Why it seemed so important to find out exactly who Iana was, Henri could not say. Possibly because he could not abide a mystery. Then again, it might be because he desired her so fiercely and wanted to know just how available she was to him with regard to her station in life. Unworthy thoughts troubled him, so he dismissed them.
“What is the cost of crossing at Largsmuth?” he asked, determined not to indulge his prurient interest in her any further.
“A schilling, I believe. My bro…I cannot recall the exact price,” she snapped.
Henri smiled. Another slip. She had been about to say brother, he was certain of it. If her brother had been with her at that crossing, he must have been escorting her somewhere, likely to the man she would wed. Women had little cause to leave their homes, otherwise. So it was probable that she had traversed this route in reverse, in order to become a bride. Her husband had died, so she had told Ev. Why had her family not come for her if she had been widowed and left with nothing? Were they all dead?
It seemed that the more answers he obtained about his Iana of Somewhere Nearby, the more questions he found arising.
Iana had dreaded this part of the journey. Left to her own devices, she would not have risked passing this way, near Largsmuth, but would have taken ship on the west coast and gone to a place unknown. Though it was unlikely anyone hereabout would recognize her as sister to Newell, it certainly was not impossible. He had many friends in the area who had visited their home and met her as a girl. Despite all that had happened to her, she had not changed overmuch in looks, save to grow taller.
Sir Henri had taken the lead when she stopped to adjust Tam’s sling. Now he led them directly through the town. Iana kept her head bowed, cutting her gaze right and left, thankfully seeing only strangers.
Largsmuth proved an odd mix of buildings, some wattle and daub, some quite wonderfully constructed of wood. A few of the latter boasted hinged half-walls, let down, propped upon supports and used as tables to display wares of the shopkeepers.
The remainder of the silver chain lay within her pouch, begging to be spent upon a decent gown, shoes that were not encrusted with mud, and soft-scented soaps to soothe her skin. She sighed and rode on, knowing the folly of spending for things she could do without.
“Ah, I see an inn up ahead,” Sir Henri said, turning. “We shall sleep there tonight.”
