Chapter Eight
A gentle, familiar neigh of a horse sounded in Luke’s mind, cutting through the darkness. Something tickled his ear. He lifted his arm to brush at it, but as soon as he did a sharp stabbing pain tore through his side. He groaned and opened his eyes.
It was dark. It took him a moment to recognize the sweet aroma surrounding him as hay. He brushed his ear and found a piece of hay tickling it. He was lying in hay! He also smelled the wretched scent of horse manure. Moonlight was shining in through the planks around the room he was in, giving him enough light to see he was in a barn. He strained his neck, looking around. He was covered with a tattered blanket, tucked into the corner of a stall, the entrance of the stall at his head. The other side of the stall was dark, but he managed to see a portion of a dress.
“Nessa?” he called. His voice was hoarse and he had to try again. “Nessa.”
The dress shifted and a small foot emerged from the folds. A black and white cat strolled out of the darkness where the dress was. The cat stretched before giving him an uninterested glance and casually walked out of the stall. Luke stretched his arm out carefully and touched Nessa’s foot. “Nessa.”
“Luke!” Nessa lunged forward, emerging from the darkness. Her blonde hair was in a wild disarray of hay and tangles. The side of her face was patterned with the straw she had been laying on. “Are you okay?” Her voice sounded panicked, breathless. Concerned.
A warmth blossomed in his chest. It was more concern than anyone had ever shown him. “Yes. Where are we?”
“The little girl who lost the cat, Jenny. Her father is a farmer. They’ve been taking care of us.”
Luke realized his sword and armor were gone. He was covered by a blanket and wore only breeches. “Where is my sword?”
“With your armor. Here.” Nessa pointed to the darkness. “I’ve hidden them beneath some hay. Are you thirsty? Hungry?” Nessa began to rise. “I can—”
Luke grabbed her arm, pulling her back. “How long have I been out?”
“Two days.”
God’s blood! Grimacing, he pushed himself up.
“No,” Nessa protested. “Please, rest. You lost a lot of blood.” Her voice hitched.
Luke paused at the anguish in her tone.
“I thought… I thought you wouldn’t wake up.” Tears glistened in her eyes. “I couldn’t…” She shook her head.
Something stirred in the pit of his stomach, reacting to the tremor in her voice. It must be because he was thirsty that his throat suddenly went dry. “I’m all right.”
“No. You need to rest.” She put a warm hand on his chest to push him back.
He realized he was still holding her arm…and he didn’t want to let go. What the devil was this madness? He released her. But she didn’t pull her hand away from his chest.
“Please, Luke.”
How could he resist her request? He lay back down.
She disappeared into the shadows only to reemerge with a flask. She handed it to him. “Ale.”
He opened the flask and drank deeply. His mind was racing. How had they gotten here? What if the farmer or the little girl told others? For a moment, he allowed the delicious taste of the ale to quench his dry throat. Finally, when he drank his full, he lowered the flask and ran a hand across his mouth. His gaze swept the barn.
Nessa sighed softly. “We’re safe here.”
Luke looked at her. Was that what she needed to believe? “We shouldn’t stay.”
“We couldn’t travel. There was nowhere else to go. I wasn’t going to leave you.”
His gaze swept her face. Sincere. Beautiful. Desperate. He clenched his lips. He couldn’t save Nessa any more than he could his own mother. Weak. Worthless. “I didn’t need to be saved.”
“You were bleeding to death! I had to do something!”
“So, you trusted strangers?”
Tears entered her eyes, shimmering in the moonlight. Yet there was a determination and righteousness in the set of her jaw. “I was going to ask Urien’s men for help, but couldn’t find them.”
“That’s not funny.”
“Jenny and her father offered help and I took it. If you think that was wrong, so be it. But it saved your life.”
Saved his life. Disgust filled him. He was supposed to be a great knight, but apparently the only thing he was capable of saving was a child’s cat. Not Nessa. Not his mother. He looked away from her. He hadn’t thought of his mother in a very long time. The only similarity between Nessa and his mother was that he couldn’t save either one. He heard his mother’s cries in his head and pushed them aside. She had been alone. Nessa had been alone and scared, too. Nessa was not his mother; she didn’t need rescuing. He looked at her again. She hadn’t curled up in a ball and died as other noble women would have done. She was strong, and bright. He’d always thought she was intelligent. And the last thing he wanted to do was hurt her, insult her. “You did good, Nessa. I didn’t mean to imply anything else.”
Nessa nodded, but looked down, shielding those large eyes from him. When she glanced at him again, a wall had been erected. She had closed him off. He’d never seen her do that before. Others, yes. But not Nessa. “I had to keep you safe for Mel.”
A strange silence settled in the barn. If Luke didn’t know better, he would have sworn the animals had gasped. Mel. Yes, Mel. His intended bride. Her sister. Of course, she was doing all this for her. Not for him. Not for herself. Luke was surprised at the disappointment settling in his stomach like a heavy rock.
“I should check your wound.”
“I can do it,” Luke protested.
Nessa grinned, but ignored him. “Turn onto your side.”
Luke followed her instructions, rolling onto his side. She eased the blanket down over his hip. There was something sensual in the movement and he was glad he was on his side as his manhood twitched. She peeled the cloth covering his wound away. It pulled slightly and he stiffened at the feeling of the cloth sticking to it. “Stay there.”
She disappeared into the darkness of the barn as she left the stall. A cold chill settled over his body as he waited for her return. A light suddenly shone just out of his sight. After a moment, the light came closer and he saw Nessa carrying a torch and some cloth in her hand, as well as a bowl. She put the torch into a small notch in the wood and knelt beside him.
“Aren’t you worried the straw will catch fire?”
“Do you think me a dim wit? Godwin and I spoke of it. That’s why there’s no straw below the torch. He notched out the wooden plank so I could use the torch if I had to.”
He nodded, satisfied with the answer. He looked at his cut. His skin was swollen and red around the darkened cut. Dark lines crisscrossed it. It looked to have been stitched. There was also some sort of drying yellowish poultice on the wound. “What is that?”
“Godwin takes care of his animals in an unusual fashion. If they are bleeding heavily, he thinks it wiser and less dangerous to stitch them, much the same way we embroider clothing.” Nessa began to smear on some of the yellowish salve from the bowl.
“I am no animal!” Luke said in indignation. The salve felt soothing against his skin and he wondered for a moment what it was. Then, he thought it better he didn’t know.
“It was the only thing he knew to do. And since you are alive, I can hardly protest.” Nessa spread the ointment across his cut, completely coating and covering it. She worked with gentle strokes and caring caresses.
Luke allowed her to work, watching the way her tender fingers moved against his skin. Soft. Careful. Delicate. Lovely. He cleared his suddenly dry throat. “Were there no physicians in the village?”
“Godwin thought it better not to let others know we were here.” Nessa put a clean cloth against his wound.
The farmer was a smart man. “Why is he helping us?”
Nessa pressed against the cloth and it stuck to the salve. She looked up at him. “Because we helped his daughter.”
Her large eyes, her smooth skin, her full lips, caught him off guard. He was breathless for a moment. The thought of pulling her against him and tasting her lips entered his mind unexpectedly. Good heavens! It must be that yellow stuff against his wound, poisoning him with these thoughts.
The black and white cat leapt into the stall from a beam above their heads. Nessa jumped. The moment was lost as they both laughed. The cat rubbed his back against Nessa’s arm and began licking the salve from her fingers. If the cat didn’t die from it, Luke was certain he wouldn’t.
Nessa was so relieved Luke’s eyes were open. She didn’t want to stop looking at him for fear it was all a wonderful dream. When she was done with his wound, she cleaned the area and removed the torch. She burned the dirty cloth and extinguished the torch before returning to him. She never wanted to leave him. She had been so worried. So worried he would never open his eyes again. She returned and sat so close to him that her knee touched his shoulder. She was exhausted. She had cared for him for two days, barely sleeping.
“Lay down.”
Nessa looked at Luke.
“While you are beautiful, you have rings beneath your eyes. Have you slept?”
Beautiful? He thought she was beautiful? Her?! She shook her head. “A little.”
“Lay here. Beside me.”
Nessa didn’t hesitate. She stretched herself out on her back at his side. Her body heat would keep him warm. And she would get to touch him, as they had when they were young. They stared at the ceiling.
“Do you remember looking at the stars?” Luke asked.
He remembered! Nessa stared at the planked ceiling. She couldn’t forget. She would sneak out of the castle to lay on the top of a hill to be close to the twinkling stars. Luke had followed her one time, discovering what she was doing. Instead of telling her father, he had joined her. It was a special time to simply stare at the blinking twin pricks of light in the sky and pretend. She was surprised he had remembered. “I do. Remember we looked for patterns in the stars?”
Luke nodded.
Nessa stifled a yawn. That had been when she had imagined herself in love with him. She would imagine they were married and she ran a castle of her own. He was always so kind to her. And she was so young. Now, she wasn’t so young and she found him even kinder. And heartbreakingly handsome. She turned her head to look at him. They were close. Very close. She studied his rugged profile as he stared at the roof. A proud, aquiline nose, a square, strong jaw.
“Not quite the same view,” he whispered and turned to look at her.
Their noses touched. She felt a puff of his warm breath across her lips. For just one moment, one second, she wished… she wished he could be hers. Before the thought had vanished from her mind, he moved forward and pressed his lips to hers. Soft, gentle. His lips were wet from the ale. Nessa ached. Desire speared through her body, making it tingle with life. She had wanted to know what it was like to kiss him for a very long time. The kiss deepened. His arm went around her waist, drawing her close against the length of his body. His hand moved to the nape of her neck, brushing his fingers along her hairline. His lips coaxed hers to part for him. A soft sigh escaped her lips and Luke thrust his tongue into her mouth.
The sudden intrusion snapped her from her daze. What was she doing?! She pulled back, ripping herself free of his hold. She pushed her clenched fists against her mouth.
Luke reached for her. “It’s okay, Nessa.”
She shook her head violently. Tears formed in her eyes, blurring her vision of him. She had tempted Luke like a willful whore. And she had kissed him! “She’ll hate me.” The words were ripped from her soul.
“No, Nessa,” Luke whispered. “No one could ever hate you.”
But she knew Mel would. She knew Mel would hate her. She had told her as much when they were young. Mel had told her that Luke would be hers and she would never forgive her if she ruined that. Nessa shook her head. What had she done? She rose and ran from the barn, even as Luke called to her.
Lightning ripped the distant dark sky as Nessa emerged from the barn breathless and sobbing. She berated herself. She had no will power around Luke. She wanted to kiss him; she had wanted to kiss him since she was young. Anguish filled her, shaking her body. He was Mel’s. He had always been Mel’s. And Nessa never wanted her sister to hate her. She fell to her bottom below a large tree. Why had Luke come after her? Luke had come because of his honor. Because they were friends. He had come to save her because she was Mel’s sister.
Nessa wiped her eyes. The small black and white cat rubbed up against her shins and she stroked its head. “I love him,” she whispered, defeated. She knew she had to give him up. Forever. He could never know of her love. Mel loved him.
“Nessa.”
Nessa turned. Thunder rumbled in the sky. Urien stood beside the tree.