Knight's Rebellion. Suzanne Barclay
Читать онлайн книгу.
Alys tried to jerk free, but he held her fast.
“Show me your foot.”
“Nay.” She wore woolen hose, but it might not protect her from his touch.
“Your modesty is ill placed. Stick out your foot.”
“I do not want you to touch me.”
His expression hardened. “I have yet to stoop to ravishing nuns,” he snapped. “I am trying to help.”
“A first, I am sure.”
Gowain stood in a swift, lithe movement. “I’ve no time to bandy words with a spoiled nun. We must be inside the caves, and quickly, lest we’re spotted.” He swept her off her feet.
“Oh!” Alys waited to be rushed by his emotions, but felt only the sinewy strength of his arms around her back and under her knees, the thunder of his heart against her ribs. Yet, beyond those ordinary things, she sensed power held in check, feelings blanketed by rigid control. The realization that he was able to hide from her was more frightening. “Put me down! How dare you!”
He tightened his grip on her. “Stop wriggling, or we’ll both fall down the side of the mountain.”
Alys glanced over his shoulder at the treetops, far, far below them and stopped struggling, but the feeling of being surrounded by some terrible force persisted. She’d seen a tree once, struck by lighting. It had simply exploded from the inside out and burst into flames. Now she understood why.
“Relax. I won’t drop you.” His breath fanned her forehead, warm and soft.
“I…I am not used to being handled so.” Was that her voice? She sounded breathless and faint.
“You are the first nun I’ve carried, also. ‘Tis a bit… disconcerting. Aye, that must be it,” he added, so low she barely heard the words.
“It, what?” Talking eased her, gave her something else to concentrate on besides him and the feelings he concealed.
“Nothing.” He climbed steadily despite her weight. “How old were you when you felt the calling to be a nun?”
“Thirteen,” she said without thinking, for that was when her life had changed…and not for the better.
“Ah. I am told females do irrational things at that time.”
“Irrational! What is irrational about taking the veil?”
“Nothing, if you are suited to it. Which you are not.”
“You are an expert in such matters?”
“I know women,” he said with a contempt that grated.
“I am sure you do…and all of the low sort.”
“Tsk, tsk. Did not Christ have compassion for them? Why did you wish to become a nun?”
“Because…because I wished to serve God.” Oh, how the lie stuck in her throat. Forgive me, but I have no other choice.
“Ah. There are far too many who enter the church to avoid marriage rather than because they have a true calling.”
That stung. “I’m pleased you approve.”
“I do not.” He shifted her, ducking as he stepped forward. Instantly the dark swallowed them up. He set her on her feet, but surprised her by keeping an arm protectively around her back to steady her.
Alys instinctively braced a hand on his chest. Beneath the iron links of his mail, she felt the pounding of his heart. It raced a bit, matching her own pulse. Why this sense of connection with him, of all people? “Where are the others?”
“They are forbidden to come to the entrance lest any be spotted from below.” His low voice echoed faintly off unseen stone walls. “I but wait for my eyes to adjust to the darkness.”
Alys stood perfectly still, senses straining to pick up clues to what lay ahead. From farther inside the caves, she heard distant scurrying sounds and muted voices as the outlaws settled their stolen goods. Yet she was more keenly aware of the man towering over her in the gloom. The rasp of his breathing reminded her of the steep climb he’d made, burdened by her weight. And that on top of a fierce battle and a long ride.
If she was exhausted, he must be doubly so. She looked up, measuring him in the faint light. She’d not realized before how large he was, taller even than her father and brothers, his mended mail seemingly stretched to accommodate his powerful frame and bulging muscles. She’d been a fool to chafe at him. A shiver worked its way down her spine.
“Come. You grow chilled.” He raised a hand to take her arm, then dropped it when she shied away.
Her eyes must be used to the dimness, for she saw the bitter twist of his lips. It is not your fault, but mine, she wanted to tell him. Though why she should care, she didn’t know.
“Hang on to my cloak or my belt, then,” he said gruffly. “The way is rough and twisting. I’d not want you to trip and break your neck till I’m certain my men are like to live.”
“Thank you for reminding me of my worth.” She stumbled along behind with her hand clutched on his cloak.
“I’m a plain-speaking man.” He forged ahead, down a set of stone steps, ducking through low archways and around impossibly tight turns with her close behind.
A square of light bloomed ahead as they rounded a particularly sharp bend in the tunnel. The air was warmer and smelled faintly of past meals and stale, sweaty bodies. Alys wrinkled her nose. “Whew! It stinks worse than—”
“Gowain!” A woman dashed up the set of steps they were descending and wrapped her arms around his waist. “There were wounded, and I feared—” She stopped, frowning as she looked around him at Alys. “Who is this…this woman you’ve brought?”
“She’s not a woman, Maye. She’s a nun.” Gowain loosened Maye’s arms, then turned her and guided her down the steps ahead of him with the care a man bestows on his loved ones.
Alys followed, shocked by the keen sense of disappointment she felt. Fool. Of course a handsome, virile man like him would have a woman, be she wife or mistress.
At the base of the stairs, Maye stopped again, and glared at Alys. She was plump and older than Alys had first guessed. A hint of silver showed in the long brown braids draped across her ample bosom. Doubtless she’d been a beauty in her youth, might be still, if her features were not contorted with anger. “From whence did she come, this nun? Why did you bring her here?”
“Gently,” Gowain said wearily. “We met Sister Alys on the road. Her healing skills saved Stork, Martin and Sim.”
“And I am staying only till they’re well,” Alys said firmly. “Then I’ll be continuing on to Newstead Abbey.”
“As soon as I decide if it is wise,” Gowain interjected. He raised a hand to cut off her objections. “Your patients await you in one of the caves.” He looked over Maye’s head toward the fire in the center of the cavern. “Bette. Would you show Sister Alys the way and make sure she has whatever she needs?”
A woman detached herself from the crowd around the hearth and crossed to them. “Of course. Come with me, Sister.”
Bette was older than Maye, and far friendlier, chattering on about the camp facilities as she led Alys from the central cavern to a smaller one. But as she looked back over her shoulder, Alys saw Maye and Gowain walk off, heads bent close in companionable conversation. The sight caused an odd lurching in her midsection. Though he was a rough brute of an outlaw, he and his woman had something Alys envied. Closeness.
Fool, Alys chastised herself. She should not waste time yearning for what she could not have, but spend what energy she had on finding a way out of this terrible predicament.