Chapter Twelve #3
Eiselle hoped that was the truth. She, too, had heard the whispers around Narborough, that MacRohan didn’t seem himself after his devastating injury, and some men were even saying that the fearless knight was no longer fearless.
But she had never repeated what she’d heard to Bric because she honestly didn’t believe it.
The High Warrior had not lost his fearlessness; she would stake her life on it.
But not having been around Bric very much before his injury, she didn’t really know the man and his manner prior to that event, so all she could go on was his reputation and what she saw these days.
What she saw was a man who went about his duties, a man who was, and ever would be, de Winter’s greatest knight.
She believed in him.
“I simply meant that you have had some pain in your torso when you swing a sword,” she reminded him. “Does it still pain you?”
He seemed resolute. “The pain will fade. It will not stop me from doing as I must.”
“Do you fear that de Winter will be called to fight again?” she asked. “I heard the servants saying that the French rebels have been moving south, to London. They say that is where Prince Louis is now, waiting for a fleet of ships from France. Is this true?”
Bric looked at her a moment without reacting. Then, he smiled weakly. “There are many rumors flying about, Lady MacRohan. I would not take what the servants say too seriously. The weak minded have vivid imaginations.”
“Then it is not true?”
“I did not say that. I simply said there are many such rumors flying about, but nothing has yet been confirmed. Until it is, you should not worry about it. When the time comes, I will tell you the truth about things.”
Eiselle sensed that he simply didn’t want to speak on the subject, so she didn’t press him. Instead, she shifted the focus to the reason why she’d come.
“As you say, Husband,” she said. “I apologize if I sounded foolish with my questions.”
“You did not.”
“Then that would be a first,” she teased. “My father used to say that everything out of my mouth was foolishness.”
Bric couldn’t help it; he reached up to gently stroke her cheek. “Not everything,” he said quietly. “When you tell me you love me, that is not foolish.”
Her cheeks flushed sweetly. “Nay, it is not.”
“Tell me again.”
“That I love you? You know that I do.”
“I know. But I want to hear it every day.”
“Then I shall tell you every day if you tell me that you love me, too.”
His eyes glimmered warmly at her. “I love you,” he whispered.
“And I love you. I love you madly.”
They were words that fortified his heart in ways he could have never imagined.
He never knew that three little words could make him feel such joy, such contentment.
He very much wanted to kiss her, but his natural restraint railed against it.
But he knew that if he stood here with her much longer, he wouldn’t be able to resist the urge, so it was best to remove himself from temptation.
“Now that I have heard the words that will carry me through my day, I am content,” he said. “But if there isn’t something else you wish to discuss with me, I must return to the men. Still, it has been a welcome respite to see you.”
Eiselle was touched. Bric wasn’t the great flatterer other than to tell her of his love for her, but the compliments he did pay her were simple and sweet. She adored that about him. The past several weeks had been a learning experience for them both, and they were improving in their communication.
The man who never wanted to be married had learned a valuable lesson when the arrow almost ended his life – he learned that life was worth living, in all circumstances, but most especially with the right woman by his side.
And Eiselle was learning about a life she could have never imagined, something romantic and sweet that she’d heard of but never believed she would experience.
For both of them, the unexpected and, in one case, unwanted marriage had become the most important thing in the world.
“Do you think I just came here to gaze adoringly at you, then?” she jested.
“I really did come here for a reason and it was not to distract you from your duties. It was to ask you if you have time to try on the clothing I am repairing for you. I believe I have it right, but it would help if you would try the pieces on so that I can make any necessary adjustments.”
He glanced at the group of men about twenty feet away. “I do not have the time at the moment,” he said. “But, mayhap, in an hour or so. Will that be acceptable?”
She nodded. “It will.”
He winked at her. “Thank you, mo chroí.”
Eiselle simply smiled as he turned once again and headed back to the training area where the men were practicing with wooden swords they had fashioned.
Pearce had entered the activities and he broke off a group of men and took them over to the south side of the field for instruction in archery.
There were targets set up on piles of hay for the men to practice on.
But Eiselle paid little attention to Pearce as she turned back for the keep; her attention was on Bric until the very last moment.
She wanted him to be her last memory before she turned her attention to something else.
Bric saw when his wife had headed back towards the keep, her dark hair blowing in the breeze.
Even though he was reclaiming his broadsword to continue his instruction to the men, his thoughts were lingering on her.
Such a lovely, sweet creature who was turning into a woman that was quite eager in his bed.
She seemed to crave sexual contact as much as he did, and she needed absolutely no prompting to respond to his will.
Even thinking about that made his loins feel warm, so he quickly diverted his attention.
It would do no good to feel a need for his wife when he still had work to do.
But knowing what was waiting for him this night made him want to complete his work just a little faster.
With that thought on his mind, he bellowed orders to his recruits, demanding they give him their attention, and they did.
He had an eager audience of both young and old men, and he resumed the lesson where he’d left off.
He was teaching the men defensive tactics which, in the past, he’d taught them by physically demonstrating – and in some cases, violently – what happens when an enemy tries to kill them and how to counteract their attacks.
But today, Bric was being a little less violent about it and a little more explanatory.
In truth, what Eiselle said was correct – his torso still pained him to swing a sword, and sometimes he felt he was tearing up all of the healing he’d done, which had forced him to be somewhat cautious when engaging in physical activity.
At least, that’s what he told himself. The truth that he kept buried was that he didn’t want to reinjure himself. For the first time in his life, he was concerned about his physical state.
It was an unusual concern, indeed.
But it was something he tried to push through, alien feelings that he’d never experienced before.
As the men gathered around him once again, he pulled one young man out of the crowd and spoke to the men about the proper way of using a sword for defense rather than offense.
He had the recruit properly positioned as he explained what needed to happen in the heat of battle, while over in the crowd of men who were learning how to properly hold a bow, Pearce had given one of the recruits an arrow to see if the man could properly handle it.
Unfortunately, the recruit accidentally let the arrow fly and it sailed into the air, landing about two feet from Bric as he was instructing his men.
Bric didn’t remember running into the keep after that.
All he remembered was something unfamiliar – the powerful sense of panic.