31

Jane felt numb. She had assumed that Lynx had received his horrendous wound fighting the enemy. Now she learned that one of his own men had tried to murder him! Who? Why? her mind screamed. At all costs she must keep this alarming news from Lynx. He was not strong enough to handle the truth; it would devastate him, perhaps even kill him!

Jane knew that Lynx de Warenne was a hard man, often grim-faced and uncompromising, with a towering pride, but he was a natural-born leader of men who earned their respect. He was scrupulously fair and would never ask any man to do something he would not do himself. He set uncompromisingly high standards, but always set the example. His men love him, yet there must be one who wants him dead!

Jane suddenly realized she had left him alone in the Master Tower. “Please excuse me,” she murmured, trembling at the thought of Lynx’s vulnerability.

She crept into the bedchamber, trying not to disturb him, but as she approached the bed, Lynx opened his eyes as if he could sense her presence. Jane threaded her fingers through his and smiled down into his eyes. Her resolve hardened. She would protect him until he was strong! But what if he never regains his former strength? What if he is left permanently weak and crippled? she agonized. He will blame me for not allowing him to die! Stop it, stop it, she told herself fiercely, I have the power … I have all the power. He has done exactly as I asked: given himself completely into my hands! Now that he has given me his trust at long last, I cannot let him down, I must be strong enough for both of us!

“You are healing well, my darling, your body gains strength every day. But I know everything inside still gives you agonizing pain. Give it to me, let me take your pain, Lynx.”

He never took his eyes from her face as she gently placed her hands upon his body. Beginning at his shoulders, she stroked soothingly, endlessly, down his ravaged arms, down his chest, over his protruding ribs. When she saw her touches begin to show their effect, Jane moved her hands lower, carefully avoiding his belly, beginning at the hips and stroking down his legs, once so heavily muscled, now only bone.

She eased his suffering so much that his mouth was able to curve into a smile for her. “I want to sleep beside you tonight,” she whispered. “I want to touch you and hold you and love you all night. Do you think you could bear it, for my sake?”

Lynx lifted his hand to cradle her cheek and murmured, “Janie.” The tender endearment almost undid her, but she willed back the tears that threatened to form. Tears were weakening to both of them. From now on, she would do only what was strengthening.

*   *   *

That night in the hall, Jane noticed that Marjory never left her uncle’s side. She sensed that they were talking quietly about Lynx’s attempted assassination. Perhaps there was someone they suspected, but Jane did not intrude upon their privacy. Perhaps I don’t want to hear the truth; perhaps I can’t face it yet.

When the meal was finished, John de Warenne approached her as she sat with Elizabeth de Burgh. “Jane, I shall be leaving in the morning. Unfortunately, my time is not my own and duty awaits me in Edinburgh. I have not yet appointed a guardian for your son, and will hold off for the present and fervently hope it will not be necessary.”

Jane impulsively took his hands. “Thank you, my lord earl. I swear to you I will heal Lynx, if it is humanly possible.”

“I know you will, my dearest child. Lynx is a lucky man to have found a wife devoted to him as you are, but I believe he knows that. God bless you, my dear. I pledge to get to the bottom of who did this grievous injury to him.”

He knows who did it! Jane realized. But John de Warenne was a good man and she would put her trust in him. “Godspeed and thank you for accepting me.”

    Jane undressed in a glow of candlelight. She knew how much pleasure Lynx took from looking at her body, and her only desire was to please him. Gently, she turned back the snowy sheet and slipped naked into the bed. Lynx now had enough strength to turn his head toward her on the pillow, and she spoke to him in muted tones.

“The governor is leaving tomorrow. He wouldn’t go back to Edinburgh if he thought you would not recover. I like John de Warenne.” Her lips turned up into a smile, allowing her dimples to show. “Believe it or not, I think he approves of me.”

Jane moved against Lynx, offering her engorged breast. As his hot mouth fastened upon her nipple, she heard him sigh with gratification. She wiped the dampness from his brow that formed in tiny beads from his exertion, then she threaded her fingers through his clean hair and held his head to her breast.

The bond between them strengthened with each passing day and night. She was everything to him: wife, lover, friend, nurse, and now mother. Joined like this, Jane felt she was a part of him, his breath, his blood, his bone, his pulse, his heartbeat, his pain, his very life. Jane smiled into the candlelight. She felt omnipotent. By giving her his complete trust, Lynx de Warenne had empowered her, and for the first time since he’d come home to Dumfries with his life hanging by a thread, she was absolutely certain her beloved Lynx would survive.

    Jane fed him her breast milk for two more weeks, then she began to give him other food, and miraculously, his body did not reject it. Lynx gained strength rapidly after that and was able to turn on his side in the bed and eventually sit up. He was now able to speak without completely exhausting himself and Jane brought his son to him every day. At first she brought a sleeping Lincoln Robert and let him lie beside his father, but as Lynx gained strength, she let their son roll about on the bed, or on the floor, where Lynx could enjoy his antics.

When Jane joined Lynx in the curtained bed at night, a subtle change occurred. Where before she had enfolded him, now they held each other, never separating until the darkness melted into morning. It wasn’t long before Lynx began to assert his authority again. “I want some fresh air,” he declared one morning in June. Jane opened the door onto the parapet walk. “No, I want to go outside. Thomas!”

Jane instructed Taffy to take a chair onto the parapets in the sunshine. “Will you both carry Lynx outside?”

“Help me to walk,” Lynx ordered his squires, overruling Jane’s suggestion. She experienced one small moment of panic that Lynx didn’t need her anymore, but then she began to laugh joyfully. She thanked the sun, the moon, and the stars in heaven that he had taken his first steps on his road to recovery. Jane knew that Lynx lived for the day when he would need no one. He hungered and thirsted for the world and everyone in it to need him!

As Thomas helped him into the chair, Lynx looked back at Jane outlined in the doorway that led out onto the roof. “Isn’t she wonderful?”

“She is that, my lord … one helluva woman!”

Marjory and young Elizabeth joined them on the castle roof. “Oh, Lynx, you are doing so much better. You still look like hell, but I know your strength is coming back.”

Lynx didn’t seem to be listening. His eyes were glued to the doorway watching for Jane. When she finally emerged into the sunshine, he asked in reverent tones, “Isn’t she beautiful?”

Jory’s brows swept up as she experienced a revelation. “My God, you are in love!”

Lynx grinned wickedly. “Don’t you dare tell her.”

Jory rolled her eyes at Elizabeth. “Oh I vow, my lips are sealed!”

“They had better be, I am keeper of your secrets, don’t forget,” Lynx blackmailed. As Jane approached, he held out his hand to her. She drew near and placed hers in it. Immediately he pulled her close to steal a kiss. “Your fragrance is so heady, it steals my senses.”

His sister laughed at Lynx and said dryly, “Don’t worry, Brother, no one would guess your secret in a million years.”

“Secret?” Jane asked innocently.

“Oh, didn’t he tell you? Lynx has sworn a vow of chastity as penance for his sins.”

Jane laughed and returned her husband’s kiss. “I know better,” she whispered to him.

“Speaking of sinners, here comes one now!” Jory cried, as she spotted Robert Bruce, riding in, hell-for-leather. Marjory picked up her skirts and headed for the outside steps and Elizabeth de Burgh followed.

“Please,” Jane called out to them, “will you let me be the first to greet Robert?”

Jory’s lovely green gaze searched Jane’s face. “Of course,” she conceded graciously. “We’ll await you up here.”

    Jane met Robert Bruce as he strode into Dumfries’ entrance hall. He opened his powerful arms and Jane felt herself enfolded. “I couldn’t come sooner, lass. I was near torn in half for you; I thought Lynx had crossed too far over the line to survive. How did you save him?”

“I think he did cross over, but I have healing powers. Robert, he’s nowhere near well. He is skeletal and soon exhausted. He won’t allow you to see his pain, but sometimes in the night he suffers agony.”

“I understand. How are you holding up, beauty?”

Jane’s dimples appeared for a brief moment. “I am now Lady Jane de Warenne. My husband’s plight has given me strengths I never knew I had.”

“They were always within you, Jane.”

“Robert, who is the knight with the drooping eyelid?”

The Bruce looked down at her warily. “He is Lynx’s nemesis—his mortal enemy.”

“’Fore God, tell me something I don’t know!”

“He is Fitz-Waren, John de Warenne’s bastard.”

Jane’s hand went to her breast, “Oh, heaven help us!”

“Are you telling me Fitz-Waren is responsible?”

“Yes, but Lynx doesn’t know. Jory knows, and John knows. They didn’t discuss it with me, but the moment the eyelid was mentioned, I could tell by the looks they exchanged that they immediately knew his identity.” Jane placed her hands on Robert’s chest. “When Lynx finds out he will want to go after him and he isn’t strong enough. In fact, I think that Lynx’s fighting days are over.”

The Bruce put his fingers beneath Jane’s chin and raised her face so that their eyes met. “Is that wishful thinking?”

“Oh no, I want him to be restored to the same man of iron that he was. Anything less would be intolerable to him.”

“Jane, listen to me. Lynx may be weak in the flesh at the moment, but there is nothing wrong with his brain. Believe me when I tell you he is strong enough to hear the truth.”

*   *   *

When the two men embraced up on the parapets, all three ladies fought back tears.

“Damn it, I come to woo the widow and find you still kicking,” Robert declared.

Lynx grinned. “I’ll fight you for her.”

“Horseshit! Your fighting days are over.”

“Not by a long bloody chalk!”

Jane spoke up quickly. “Let’s give these two some privacy. I know a cockfight when I see one.”

Marjory went back inside with Jane and Elizabeth, but she protested, “Robert is acting as if there is nothing wrong with Lynx!”

“My first instinct was to protect Lynx from Robert’s cutting tongue, but I think his words are strengthening. I know in my heart the Bruce would never do anything to harm Lynx; both of you know that too.”

    Lynx watched Robert hoist himself so that he was seated on the crenellated wall, between two merlons. “Your taking William Douglas’s family prisoner won the Battle of Irvine for us. Did you know all along it would make Douglas come over to our side?”

“I had high hopes. I’m just back from Edinburgh. The governor has appointed me Sheriff of Lanark; he wants no more trouble from that quarter.”

“How long will the victory at Irvine buy us?”

“A few months’ peace, perhaps.”

“Good. I need the summer to recuperate and regain my strength.”

“John de Warenne has ordered Fitz-Waren and his cavalry north to aid Comyn. Rumor says they had a fearsome quarrel where the governor threatened to strip him of his rank. Good riddance, I thought, until I got home and read the message from my brother Edward in Carlisle. Ormsby, the justiciar, fled to Carlisle. Apparently Fitz-Waren dispatched one of his cavalry officers to warn him about Wallace’s impending attack.”

“Judas, the bastard is sharing Ormsby’s ill-gotten gains and is obviously in league with Wallace at the same time, if he knew Scone was about to be attacked!”

“Exactly, and now the governor, thinking to rid himself of trouble, has sent the bastard north, straight into Wallace’s camp.”

“You still suspect Comyn and Wallace are in league?”

“Suspect, my arse! I know it for a fact.”

Lynx narrowed his eyes. “You and Comyn and Edward Plantagenet are like three dogs fighting over the same bloody carcass.”

“When Scotland bleeds, I bleed. That’s the only reason I exercise patience.” He gave Lynx a shrewd glance. “I’ve exhausted you; you look like a bloody cadaver. Come on!” Robert helped him inside to his bed. Jane was there, waiting to tend him. “What the hell do you see in this man? He’s neither use nor ornament!” the Bruce growled to mask his grave concern.

Jane smiled and said lightly, “He may not be much to look at, but he makes beautiful children.”

    That night, after all at Dumfries retired, Jane removed the bandages that bound Lynx’s belly. His flesh surrounding the wound was still quite tender. “I’m going to leave it open without binding. I know you aren’t healing as quickly as you would like, but that’s because your body was so physically depleted and run down. Now, turn over for me, but do it very carefully,” she instructed.

Jane began to stroke his back, then she brushed the silky hair from the nape of his neck so that she could press her fingertips at the base of his skull. Then, with a featherlight touch, she began to stroke her fingers down the entire length of his back on either side of his spine.

“Lynx, I have struggled with my conscience all day about telling you something. You are nowhere near physically strong enough yet to deal with this matter, but Robert pointed out to me that there is nothing wrong with your brain. So in spite of my overwhelming urge to protect you, I am going to share my knowledge, because I fear you will never trust me again if I keep this from you.”

“Sweetheart, I have made you work so hard for my trust.” He reached for her hand and stayed it, as she stroked away his pain. “If this is about Fitz-Waren, I already know.”

Jane’s mouth went dry with apprehension. “How?” she whispered.

“As soon as I could utter a coherent sentence, I questioned Thomas and Taffy.”

“Oh, Lynx, please promise me you won’t—”

He touched his calloused fingers to her lips. “Hush, love. The only thing I am going to focus on this summer is regaining my strength. I am going to start tonight. As much as I crave your touch, this is the last time you will take my pain away. I want to feel the pain; I need to fight the pain. It will make me stronger.”

“But, Lynx—”

“No, Jane.” He drew her down to the bed. “If you want to stroke something, rub this,” he said wickedly, moving her hand to his groin. Lynx closed his eyes. “Lord God, how you make me quiver.”

“I don’t want to weaken you,” she whispered.

“It will make me feel stronger and more a man than anything else you can do for me,” he confided.

Jane took off her night rail and slid her nakedness against his, ecstatic that Lynx was strong enough to achieve a throbbing erection.

“I’ll be damned if I’ll let the Bruce steal a march on me, for ’tis certain he’ll be fucking right now.”

“Lynx!” Jane reproved with a gasp. “They will be making love.”

Lynx thought about it for a minute, then replied, “Nay, they’ll be fucking … then they’ll make love.”

Jane traced his lips with the tip of her tongue before she kissed him. “You are bad.”

“Mmm, in a couple of days when I’m stronger, I intend to show you the difference. It will be sooo bad, then sooo good!”

    Lynx de Warenne became a man with a mission. Throughout the rest of June and all through the month of July he focused upon regaining his stamina and rebuilding lost muscle. Lynx began to participate in the tasks of manual labor that proliferated at Dumfries. He helped Keith Leslie in the stables, first by feeding and grooming the horses and, later on, mucking out the stables. He went into the meadows, scything and stacking the hay. Lynx spent an entire fortnight in the blacksmith’s forge, repairing old weapons and fashioning new. He learned how to do everything from tempering a sword blade to shoeing a warhorse.

Lynx learned how to brew malt beer, then helped to fill and stack the barrels. At the mill he ground grain into flour, then filled up the sacks and stitched them closed. Gradually, steadily, his health improved, some of his strength returned, and slowly, he began to gain weight, which the manual labor converted into muscle.

Lynx never wanted Jane to be too far away. Midmorning and afternoon he stopped whatever task he was doing so that he could seek her out to spend an hour with her. With his encouragement, Jane sought him out when he worked in the fields, the forge, or the stables.

It was palpably obvious to one and all at Dumfries that Lynx and Jane were in love and seemed to fall deeper in love with each encounter. Gone was the grim-faced warrior who seemed mature beyond his years. On these bright summer days it seemed he never stopped laughing, and even his squires began to realize that he was a young man of barely thirty years.

Jane enthralled him. Her image was ever before him, day and night, and when they were separated by even a short distance, she haunted him. Lynx developed an unquenchable thirst for her. When he saw her across a chamber, he had to draw close to her. When he was close, he had an uncontrollable desire to touch her. Her voice enchanted him and her laugh stole his senses.

Lynx was filled with a compulsion to watch her, touch her, and taste her. He had tumbled head over heels in love for the first time in his life and he wanted the whole world to know it. Lynx stole kisses, teased her, tickled her, picked her up and carried her for the pure pleasure of holding her close. He couldn’t resist caressing her bottom or pulling her into one of the stalls for a lingering kiss and an arousing embrace. His wooing was fierce and relentless and he enjoyed every moment of it.

Finally, at the end of July he began to hone his fighting skills with his knights and his Welsh bowmen. When he could once more draw a six-foot bow and let loose his arrows with deadly accuracy, Lynx felt a measure of satisfaction that he was making slow progress. He and Jane rode out together, sometimes along the pebbled seacoast where she gathered her touchstones, but more often over the dales with their breath-stopping vistas. She took him to her forest pool, where they swam together, then made love in the tail, fragrant grasses.

Each night they spent an hour or so with Lincoln Robert before they put him to bed. They bathed their son and fed him and played with him, immersing themselves in the joyous role of doting parents. Then later, in the wide, curtained bed, they explored to the full the mystical, compelling bond that lovers had forged since the beginning of time.

“I love you, Jane. It’s important that I say it, and more important that you hear me say it, and know that I mean it with all my heart.” The last thing he said to her each night became a ritual. “Jane, will you always love me as you do tonight?”

“I will and I shall!” she vowed fiercely.