Page 66 of Warrior’s Lady

Chapter Nineteen

Three days later, the breach in the wall had been fixed. The new stones appeared almost pink in an otherwise sea of gray. Rhiannon stared out the bedchamber window at the wall, then beyond, toward the south.

A small sigh escaped her. She was grateful the repairs to the wall were complete. But what she really wanted was to see a familiar head of dark hair ride over that rise, safe and whole. She could want no greater gift this day, the day of her birth, than to have Camden return. For Violet's sake, she amended in her thoughts.

Violet seemed to grow in confidence every day. But a wedge had come between them since Rhiannon had refused to allow her to heal the bishop after she'd struck him on the head. Rhiannon looked over at where Violet was quietly playing and tried to hold in a sigh of sadness.

"Can I go visit the horses?" the girl asked. "Orrin said he'd show me the new foal that was born last week."

"Do you want some company?" Rhiannon offered, even though she feared the girl's answer.

Violet stood, and without meeting Rhiannon's eyes, headed for the door. "Orrin will protect me." A moment later she was gone.

A sharp pang knifed through her. Violet was pulling away. Each day she grew more distant. Soon, the child would have no need of her at all. Perhaps it was time for her to leave.

And go where? She had no home, no family she wanted to return to. Mother Agnes had made it clear she was not suited for a life in the abbey. Rhiannon went to her bedchamber and took in the opulent furnishings. Never again would she experience any of the finery that had been hers, however temporarily. She sat on the bed and pulled out the Charm Stone from the small pocket inside her gown.

She'd been afraid to return the Stone to its hiding place in the chapel for fear Violet would retrieve it again. Until Camden returned, she had decided it was best to keep its location unknown to everyone, Violet included.

Despite the bishop's injury and the warning he'd been given never to return, she was uneasy knowing he had taken a house on the outskirts of the nearby village. He wouldn't give up his quest to obtain the Stone. He desired its power too much. But what would he do next to get it?

The scents of hay and horse filled the air as Rhiannon opened the heavy wooden door to the stable. She wanted to check on Rhys to see if the Stone had indeed formed a miracle.

"Orrin," she called when she stepped inside. Late morning sun permeated the stable's usual gloom, painting the world around her in a sea of gold.

"If ye be wantin' Master Orrin, he ain't here," called a lean and wiry stable boy from the stall on her right. He poked his head around the wood, eyeing her with curiosity.

"Do you know where Rhys is?"

The boy gave her a crooked smile as he stepped all the way out of the stall. "He be out in the lists with Master Orrin."

"In the lists?"

"Come, I'll show ye." He leaned a long-handled scoop against the wall and strode toward her. "That Rhys lay dyin', then he just opened his eyes, sat up, and wanted to go a sparrin'."

"He's well then?" Rhiannon asked, overcome with emotion that the Stone had worked after all. Tears misted her eyes as she fell into step beside the boy. He led her through the stables to the back door that exited into the lists.

"He seems better than ever." At the open doorway he stopped and pointed toward two men in the center of the field. They faced each other, swords extended, watching, waiting for the other to make the first move.

The sharp clang of steel shattered the silence as Rhys attacked, his advance vigorous. Orrin easily avoided the blade, blocked it with his own. Satisfaction rode Orrin's features as he pressed his own attack. "Damn good to see you well, Rhys."

Rhys brought his sword down, sliding to the hilt. "If I were any better, I'd best you this day."

Orrin easily disengaged. "You wish."

"It is good to see that you have not all been at your leisure while I've been off battling for king and country," Camden called from the far side of the lists.

Rhiannon's heart jumped as she recognized his voice. He and his men walked their horses into the lists.

"Camden," she whispered. His hair was pulled back away from his face, and his chin sported several days' beard growth. His eyes, so normally clear and piercing, were heavily smudged with dark shadows of weariness.

His eyes found hers. Warmth flared. He handed the reins of his horse to a stable boy and proceeded toward her.

She raised a hand to smooth the escaping tendrils of her hair away from her face. Her cheeks flushed when she remembered the last time her hair had been in wild disarray with him. Heat coiled through her belly and between her thighs like silken ribbons, pulling her toward him.

"Did you fare well in battle?" she asked when he stood but a handbreadth away, close enough to touch if she only reached for him. But did she dare be so bold?

"I've returned with all the men. The English have fled."