Over the next few days, an atmosphere of tense silence began to descend over Luntberg Castle. The enemy didn't attack. The only sign of their presence was the continued sound of axes from the forest. Now and then, a tree fell. Every piece of dead wood that hit the ground stoked the fires of Ayla's anxiety. What was the enemy up to? This quiet wasn't natural. There was something coming, she was sure of that.

However, only a small part of her mind could be bothered with fears like this. With the defense of the barricade in the hands of the very capable captain of the guard, Linhart, she could, at least for now, concentrate her full attention on the sick and wounded.

Every day, she spent hours doing her best to reduce the ugly swelling at the side of Isenbard's head, and she succeeded. After a couple of days, she thought its color might slowly be beginning to change back from a disturbing black and blue to a more natural color. She would have been relieved and very proud of herself indeed, were it not for one bitter fact: Isenbard did not wake. He did not even stir or mutter a word in his deep, unnatural sleep. After the swelling had begun to retreat, there was nothing Ayla could do, except wait, hope for the best, and look after all the other sick people in the castle. They needed her full attention. Especially one of them.

“Eat,” she said, putting the bowl in front of Reuben and holding out a wooden spoon.

He wrinkled his nose at the smell of the fennel soup. “Do I have to?”

“You do, if you want to get on your feet again. Come on. Do it for me.”

Immediately, he took the spoon and began shoveling the stuff into his mouth. Ayla was so surprised that she just sat there gaping at him.

After a while, Reuben glanced up at her and saw her expression. “What?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“You actually did what I said.”

“Well, I want to get well again.”

“That hasn't stopped you from ignoring my orders before and generally behaving like an egotistical brat.”

“You are too kind, Milady.”

“So what changed your mind?”

He flashed her his trademark devil's grin. Until a few days ago, Ayla would have said everything about the devil was abominable. But that grin... She could see the evil behind it, and still, all she wanted to do was grin foolishly back at him, happy that he was happy.

“It was your gentle persuasion, of course,” he murmured very, very convincingly. “You are simply irresistible.”

She gave him a slap on his arm. This was one of the few ways of touching him she didn't feel too guilty about, and one she frequently indulged in. He certainly gave her plenty of cause. “Be serious, please! I don't want to hear things like that from you, understand?”

Suddenly, the grin had vanished from his face. It was replaced by an unexpected earnestness that left her breathless. “Why not?” he asked.

Ayla blinked. Had she imagined it or was there... hurt in his voice?

“Because you don't mean them,” she whispered.

“What if I do?”

Almost without realizing it, Ayla had moved closer to Reuben, until only a few inches separated her face from his. His face, his wild, hard, handsome face. He looked much stronger now already, his cheeks a healthy color and only a light sheen of sweat on his forehead. Sweat that actually might not come from the fever. Ayla reached up, touching her own face which was flushed and moist with excitement.

“Reuben, I...”

Precisely at that moment, the door swung open.

Guiltily, Ayla jerked around, thinking that it might be Burchard. He had developed the annoying habit of interrupting her when she was with Reuben with increasing frequency, God only knew why.

But it wasn't Burchard. It was Heilswinda.

The maid stared at her mistress leaning over the face of the handsome man on the bed, her cheeks flushed. A grin appeared on her face, and she curtsied.

“Begging your pardon, Milady. Didn't want to interrupt.” She turned on the spot, waggling her hips suggestively before closing the door. “Mum's the word,” she called from outside in an excited, girly voice.

They could hear her giggling as she hurried away down the corridor.

Reuben raised an eyebrow at Ayla. “Mum's the word?”

Ayla wished heartily she could sink into the floor.

*~*~**~*~*

Apart from moments such as these, Ayla felt quite marvelous considering there was a siege going on which could result in sudden and violent death. Every time she looked at Reuben's face, feelings of tenderness and desire swept through her that she didn't know how to deal with.

She spent hours dreaming of running her hand over his face, once, just once, not pretending it was to check his temperature but for the simple feel of him under her fingers. A feel that sent shivers up her arm and played music on her heartstrings.

Sometimes she dreamed that he was a knight who came to her rescue. Then she berated herself. She was being as silly as a four-year-old—playing with her mind, while reality was very different. The bleak truth was: Reuben was not hers, nor would he ever be. The thought sent an aching pain through her heart. A pain so great that she started dreaming of the impossible again, just for a few hours while she sat at his bed, gazing at his relaxed, sleeping face and listening to the axes hacking away at the forest beyond the river.

The sound still made her uneasy. But she was heartened by another sound: Reuben's strong, regular breathing. He was getting better quickly, now strictly following all her instructions. She was amazed at his rate of recovery: it seemed almost as though he were consciously fighting the illness, determined to get on his feet as quickly as possible for some reason. Though what that reason might be, she couldn't fathom. She could only be thankful for his increasing recovery, feeling a fear she hadn't really known was there drain out of her with every day his health improved. All that was in her power to bring him back to health she did without hesitation, changing his bandages and cataplasms several times a day, applying salves, and force-feeding him all manner of medicines.

Ayla didn't know why exactly, but she didn't just care for Reuben's wounds, she had also taken to discussing her problems with him. Perhaps it was the strangely insightful advice that he always seemed able to give about military matters, or maybe it was because he was one of the few people in the castle she didn't feel she had to prove something to. Or maybe it was the fact that he was insanely handsome and she wanted to spend every single minute of her time in his company.

She didn't know what it was, but she found herself telling him more and more about the enemy, their odds of survival, her hopes and fears.

And he listened. Listened kindly, while she unloaded all the terrible things that were weighing heavily on her heart.

*~*~**~*~*

“...six hundred men, maybe seven hundred. They outnumber us ten to one, Reuben. Even if Isenbard's continued absence from the battlefield doesn't make such a terrible difference as I thought it would, yes even if he wakes up, I don't know how we're going to survive this,” she told him, dejectedly.

“So you're in a pretty grim situation?” Reuben asked softly. He could see the fear in her eyes and wished there were something he could do. But there wasn't. Not yet.

Ayla sighed and nodded in answer to his question. Then, though the situation appeared to Reuben to be anything but humorous, a grin spread across her face and she giggled. “Well, unless Sir Reuben comes to my rescue.”

Reuben's eyes widened in shock.

*~*~**~*~*

Ayla saw Reuben blanch and his eyes widen, and couldn't help it. She laughed out loud. “Look at you! You look like you’re actually taking me seriously!”

“You... are not serious?”

“Please!” Ayla rolled her eyes. “The day I wait for you to rescue me will be the day the clouds drop from heaven!”

Then she explained about Fye, and the dolls, one of which she had named Sir Reuben, and her chat with the girl.

He tried to hide it, but Ayla could see it clearly: the self-satisfied smirk on Reuben's face.

“So she thought I looked like a knight in shining armor, did she?”

“Yes. Poor child. Her parents must really see to it that she gets some sense before she grows up.”

He quirked an eyebrow. “Really? She must have had a reason to think I was a knight.”

“Yes, indeed. She thought you look strong and handsome.”

“And what do you think?”

*~*~**~*~*

The question was out of his mouth before Reuben knew, and then it was too late to recall the words.

Damn! Damn the fool that he was!

Reuben saw her beautiful blue eyes widen and cursed himself for the foolish question. What possessed him to make advances to this girl? Yes, she was damnably beautiful, even if she was a bit young. Yes, if you got past her craziness, she was even quite... nice. But he couldn't start something with her, no matter how much he might want to! It was against all his survival instincts. She had threatened to hang him, for heaven's sake! What was wrong with his head?

Reuben shuddered at the possibility of what would happen if they got closer and she found out about him. He didn't want to contemplate it. And even worse: What if he wouldn't even have that chance? What if she found him repellant? After all, her taste in men might be as crazy as the rest of her, plus, he wasn't exactly in mint condition right now.

Best to cut his losses and withdraw while he could, wasn't it?

No, no! He wanted this girl, wanted her badly. He wasn't giving up. However, he thought, suppressing a wry smile, that might not be up to him. She might be the exception to the female rule and not find him attractive. She had been the exception to the rule in pretty much everything so far. Why not now? It was a painful thought.

But then, Ayla cast her eyes down and her cheeks blossomed apple-red. Without looking at him, she muttered: “Well, maybe Fye wasn't totally mistaken.”

At her words, a triumphant grin spread over Reuben's face and a thrill shot through his veins. He knew it! He knew all along that no woman on earth could resist his charms! She was drawn to him. Maybe not as much as other women up and down the country had been, not by a long shot, but she wasn't immune to his allure.

“Wipe that self-satisfied grin off your face,” Ayla mumbled, peeking up at him with her big blue eyes from under her lashes in a way that made Reuben's heart pick up the pace.

Reuben's grin only broadened in response. “Why? What's wrong with my grin?”

“Nothing. It's beautiful. That's the problem.”

Reuben's heart hammered even faster. Damn it, what was wrong with him? He had heard compliments like this hundreds of times from all sorts of women. It wasn't anything special. He knew they were simply telling the truth, after all, he saw himself in the mirror often enough. But when Ayla said it, the words made him feel... warm.

Well, he still had a fever. That was probably it.

“Beautiful, hmm?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “Well, it's not the only thing in this room to which that adjective could be applied.”

Carefully, still not sure how much of his strength he had recovered, he raised a hand and lightly stroked Ayla's golden hair. If his ears did not deceive him, she sucked in a quick breath as his fingers touched the glimmering strands. A sign of fear? It was reasonable, he supposed. She didn't know him all that well. Was she afraid to be alone with him now that he had indicated his intentions? Would she leave?

Anxious to make the most of the moment before she was gone, he moved his hand from her hair to her cheek. Her skin was soft and warm. Warm? He still had a fever. How could her cheeks be feeling warm in comparison?

A delicious blush was suffusing her face and heating her cheeks now, that was how. Another sign of fear? Would she leave?

But instead of leaving, she sighed, leaning into his touch and briefly closing her eyes. When she opened them again, they were slightly unfocused.

Unable to hold it up any longer, Reuben dropped his hand.

She looked down at him with a slightly fuzzy, confused look in her eyes. “Why did you do that?” she asked.

He couldn't resist grinning again. “Well, you've fondled me quite a lot over the last couple of days. I thought I'd reciprocate.”

“I didn't mean the touching,” she said, softly. “I meant the letting go.”

This time it was Reuben who sucked in a sharp breath. He was about to try to come up with a witty response, when suddenly her brow furrowed and her eyes narrowed, as for the first time his words seemed to register with her.

“What do you mean I have fondled you over the last couple of days? I was attending to your medical needs!”

*~*~**~*~*

The insolent bastar— the insolent buffoon had the gall to wink at her! Ayla had never seen something as disarming and lascivious as that wink. Her face turned from pink to burning red.

“Yes, you did. And you enjoyed every minute of it,” he gloated. “Admit it.”

“I did not!”

“Oh yes, you did.”

“Did not!”

“You did.”

“No!”

He shrugged. “Well, I did.”

Ayla gasped at his insolence. Gripping a wet cloth from the table, she was about to slap him with it when he raised his hand in an imploring gesture.

“Please! I surrender! I'm no match for your skills with the wet linen, my fierce lady!”

He looked so adorable, so handsome in that moment, peeking up at her through his fingers which were spread in defense in front of his face, that she couldn't help it. She began to giggle. No matter how angry she was supposed to be at him, she just couldn't be. Not at Reuben. Not when he looked at her like this, his trademark devil's grin gleaming through the gaps between his fingers. Not when he had called her “my fierce lady.” Mine. His.

“You... you're impossible!” She giggled, dropping the wet cloth to the floor and supporting herself on his bedstead so as not to keel over from laughing.

After a moment or two, he joined in and they laughed together. His deep, booming laughter was a joy to hear.

It took quite a long time for them to calm down again. Ayla hadn't laughed in days, and it was a cathartic experience. It forced all the tension, anxiety, and fear of the last few days out of her system and gave her a few precious minutes of bliss. Eventually though, they calmed down, and Ayla, her brain starting to work again, slowly realized what he had said.

Well, I did.

He had been enjoying himself. He had enjoyed her touching him. Was it just the relief of having someone there who cared for him in his illness, or was there more? Please, she thought, please, Lord, let there be more.

Gathering all her courage, she met his predatory gray eyes and asked, in a barely audible voice: “What exactly did you mean? Just now, when you said...”

Her voice dwindled. Her courage had run out.

He looked directly back at her, as if he found her eyes just as enamoring as she found his. Impossible, surely...

“I mean,” he said, “that you can touch me any time you want.”

Again, Ayla moved almost without knowing what she was doing, and stretched out her hand. His cheek was so close. Oh, how much she wanted to stroke that stubbly cheek of his, run her fingers over the high cheekbones, cup his face in her hands. And why not?

He has asked me. He wants me to.

The thought was dream-like. Almost unbelievable. Her fingers were only a few inches away from his face...

And then, from across the river, they heard the sound of the horns of the enemy, summoning the mercenaries to attack.