He should be resentful that this woman had stolen his bed. Instead he felt...grateful that he could give her a place to sleep. There was the sense that he could watch her sleep all night long, and he would enjoy the peace upon her face.
She stirred a moment, and he remained against the far wall, out of the light. But a moment later, she sat up in the bed. Her long brown hair hung over her shoulders, and her eyes opened. They were a clear blue, like a summer sky. A sudden wariness crossed over him, for she was easily the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.
Which meant that her presence would be missed, and men would pursue her.
“I know you’re there,” she said quietly. “You built the fire up while I was sleeping.”
She spoke in Irish, and for once, he was thankful that he’d learned their language. He understood her, although he haddifficulty speaking beyond a handful of words. Though he had lived in Éireann for more than two years, he said nothing, not wanting to frighten her. And yet, he had a hundred questions he wanted to ask this woman. Who she was...why she was here.
After a time, she asked, “Do you intend to harm me?” There was weariness in her voice as if she hardly cared anymore.
“No,” he said. “You are safe.” He said nothing else, letting her draw whatever conclusions she would—though his armor made it clear that he was not a monk.
“You are a Norman soldier,” she predicted, studying his appearance.
“Je suis.“ There was no reason to deny it, particularly when her gaze had settled upon the conical helm he had set aside.
She let out a slow breath and surprised him by switching into his own language. “Will you come into the light, so that I may see you?”
He didn’t want her to see his face. Let her think of him as one of hundreds of nameless soldiers, men easily forgotten. If she never saw him, it would be easier for him to fade from her memory. He wanted no one to remember him, no one to know who he was. It was the only way he could protect himself from being recognized—especially if he succeeded in the task his commander had set before him.
“I will remain here,” he answered in his own language. “You may sleep in peace, and I will watch over you for the night.”
She stiffened at that. “And what is it you’re wanting from me in return?”
He had no expectations of her but simply answered, “Tell me your name.”
She seemed to relax at his request, recognizing that he had no intention of harming her. “I am Carice Faoilin of Carrickmeath. And you?”
“I am Raine de Garenne.” The name would mean nothing to her, he was certain.
She pulled the coverlet higher and asked, “Are you alone here?”
“Yes.” At least for now. It was likely that other priests and holy men might come to view the damage when they received word of the fire. By then, he intended to be gone.
“Why? Where are the rest of your men?”
“I will join them in the morning. I stopped here only for a short while.” But he would not tell her all of his reasons.
Instead he said, “There is food and drink, should you want them. I bid youadieu.“ He kept his hood over his head to shield his appearance from her, departing the room before she could ask more questions.
Chapter Two
The next morning, Carice awakened in a strange bed. The sheets held the unfamiliar scent of a man’s body. It was like being entangled with someone else, although she had slept alone. Bits of memory returned, making her realize where she was—and she felt an intimacy with the man whose bed she had shared.
Raine had kept his word not to harm her, and she had slept soundly, feeling safer than she had in years—which made no sense at all. He was a stranger…and also a man of honor, it seemed.
Slowly, she sat up, holding the bed coverlet close. It was always difficult to stay warm, and she was never comfortable anymore—not really. But strangely, the night of rest had renewed her strength. She eased her legs to the side of the bed and saw the food and drink waiting near the fire. There was also a basin of water upon the floor near the hearth. Curious, she eased out of bed and walked slowly toward the waiting chair. She sank down upon it and then reached out to the basin of water. Steam rose on the surface, and she realized then, that he’d heated it for her.
Her heart stumbled at that. When she touched the water, the heat made her sigh with pleasure. How had he known when she would awaken? She eased off her stockings on impulse and placed her freezing feet into the warmed water.
Bliss sank through her, and she smiled as the heat overtook her. Though she knew nothing about Raine de Garenne, he had sensed her needs and cared for her in a way she’d never anticipated.
The food was meager, only a bit of dried meat, walnuts, and raw parsnips. But she recognized the offering for what it was—the best he had to give. She ate the meat and walnuts, and was deeply grateful when her stomach did not ache at the food.
At Carrickmeath, the constant nausea and stomach difficulties had been never-ending. Only after she’d left had her aches diminished. It had made her wonder if someone had been trying to poison her in her father’s house. She couldn’t understand why, if that were true. There was no reason for anyone to harm her—she had no power at all within the tribe. Although she was betrothed to the High King, her death would accomplish nothing.
But since she’d left, each day had become a little easier. At least now when she ate, she didn’t feel as if knives were carving up her insides. Perhaps it was the taste of freedom that made food more tolerable.
