Protected by the Warrior. Barbara Phinney
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result, would stay close to discover her location.
Ha! If Kenneth believed that by dogging her footsteps day and night she would, out of frustration, finally tell him where she’d hidden Rowena, he was sadly mistaken. She was the oldest of several children and had dealt with all her siblings’ childish ways. She could easily outlast this one man’s pestering.
But ’twas a moot point. “I am not ready to leave Lady Ediva yet.”
“Is she still in danger?”
“Nay, but—”
“Is the babe safe? Is Margaret there to watch them?”
“Aye, but—”
“Then there’s no reason for you to linger. By not resting, you risk your own health. Lord Adrien will come here soon, and with Margaret’s help they will be fine dealing with Lady Ediva and her babe. Now, get your cloak.”
Irritated that she’d been interrupted and annoyed even more that Kenneth was right, Clara pursed her lips.
“As I suspected, your stubbornness will be your downfall.” He turned. “Stay, then. Lord Adrien will not be happy to see you after he ordered you home to sleep. I expect he’ll suggest the dungeon instead. Or, just as unpleasant, the grand hall. By the way, all the soldiers have been celebrating the birth of Lord Adrien’s son....”
“Fine,” she snapped. She was not unreasonable. And, aye, she needed a good night’s sleep. “Wait here.”
She slipped back into the solar, carefully took her wimple and veil, and fitted them hastily on before throwing her cloak over her shoulders and returning to the corridor.
In the flickering torchlight, she noticed Kenneth’s mouth turn up at the corners ever so slightly. She huffed as she marched past him and his smug insolence.
Downstairs and out in the bailey, they waited for the gatekeeper to open the small door within the larger gate, and Kenneth stepped out first, his hand on the hilt of his sword. Obviously satisfied that all was safe, he held out his hand to help her step through. She took it, finding it warmer and stronger than she expected. But as soon as she was safely on the path that wound down into the village, she tugged her hand back.
The late-spring night had turned colder than she’d expected. Clara looked up at the display of stars, bright because the quarter moon had yet to dominate the darkness. Clear skies always went with chilly nights. She pulled her long, dark blue cloak closer while darting a glance at Kenneth, noting that the cold didn’t seem to bother him. He wore only a lightweight cloak tossed over his broad shoulders and a knee-length tunic over snug leggings. The leather thongs that secured them pressed against his sculpted muscles. Long and lean, he was the very essence of both ease and readiness.
Clara slowed as they approached her hut. Only a short time ago, she’d spied a stealthy figure enter her hut. Now, as they rounded the corner of her hut, she could see light bleeding from around the edges of the old, worn door. Her intruder was still there.
Was it Rowena? Had the young mother slipped into the village with her child? Clara swallowed. Was her babe sick? Was that why Rowena risked a visit?
Clara turned, determined to capture Kenneth’s attention to keep it away from the door. “You have seen me home, Kenneth, and I thank you for it. Good night.”
The man laughed, a noise that bore little resemblance to humor. “Do you expect me to depart? ’Tis not what will happen. Since we now know why you were sent here, don’t you think ’twould be best if you were guarded? Surely you realize that your own life is at risk should Lord Taurin arrive.”
“Then why didn’t Lord Adrien insist I stay in the keep?”
Kenneth took her upper arm and continued to guide her up the short path toward her door. “No doubt he won’t have you that close to his wife.”
She steeled her spine and yanked back her arm. “I would never hurt Lady Ediva!”
He took her arm again, this time at the elbow. “Of course not. You aren’t that foolish.”
She pursed her lips into a thin, tight line, not willing to engage him in an argument if Rowena lingered behind her closed door. She knew Kenneth’s type. Hidden strength came with those wiry muscles, so different from her clan of shorter, thicker Saxons. And she had no strength tonight to do anything save trudge to her door.
Still, her foolish tongue belied her fatigue. “You’ll find it a waste of time to guard me. If you’re hoping I’ll slip away tonight, you’ll be hoping in vain. I’m dead on my feet and I plan to do nothing but sleep.”
“Good. It has been a long day for both of us.”
She stalked up to the door, hoping her long cloak would block the thin light seeping under it. “Since you are so set on guarding me and there’s only one way in and out of my home, I suggest you spend the night out here. I’m not the sort of woman who allows men in her home overnight.”
“And I am not the sort of man to be enticed inside, woman, certainly not by so sly a female as you.”
She shot him a blistering glare. “You have a lot of—”
A short, harsh clunk sounded within the hut. Before Clara could draw her next breath, Kenneth had shoved her behind him.
She heard his sword scrape free of its leather scabbard just as Kenneth’s booted foot connected with the door.
Clara gasped. Kenneth was prepared to kill whoever was inside!
Kenneth charged into the hut, a single thought slicing through his mind. Protect Clara. And he would do so even if it cost him his life—
A downward shot of dun-colored clothing met his glare and he stabbed at it in the dimly lit hut. A whimper, weak and childlike, reached up to him as his sword snagged a scrap of wool and tore it free from a small body. Another soft cry rent the air in front of him.
A child? Immediately, Kenneth pulled back and lowered his sword, accidentally elbowing Clara. Her fingers curled around his lower arm as if to hold him still. The cowering soul in front of them whimpered again.
“Wait!” Clara whispered in his ear as she leaned forward, so close he could feel her sharp gasp brush his neck. “Brindi?”
Kenneth blinked. The sister? He focused on the heap of pale clothes cornered in front of him, scarcely visible in the low lamp flame the intruder had kindled. The bundle moved and he saw how small it was. ’Twas indeed a child! He blew out his breath, trying to will his heart to stop racing at the horror that could have happened.
He’d nearly killed the little girl.
Clara shoved past him and dropped at her sister’s huddled form. The small girl lifted her head as her whisper penetrated the hut. “Aye, Clara, ’tis me.”
As Clara drew her sister to standing, Kenneth sheathed his sword and hastily turned up the wick on the old lamp on the table. The thin light strengthened to fill the room.
“How did you get here?” Clara exclaimed as she gave the girl a hard hug. “I sent you home to Mama!”
Brindi kept her head buried in her sister’s cloak, and Kenneth could barely hear her answer. “Mama sent me to you. She was always angry at me, saying I ate too much. I didn’t want to be there anymore.”
Clara set her away from her to search her face. “When did she send you?”
The girl shrugged. “A few days ago.”
“A few days ago! Have you been walking here since?”
“Nay, she sent me to Colchester.”
“Didn’t you remind Mama where I was sent?”
“Aye, but she kept forgetting.