Chapter 6
They stopped after three hours. Griffith knew Kallen would already be sore even after so short a time.
If he’d realized the circumstances, he might have thought to bring a litter.
That would have tripled their time on the road, though, and he knew Crispin wanted Kallen safely at Mangeron as soon as possible. Definitely in time for the birth.
Besides, he’d enjoyed riding with her. She had a refreshing energy and enthusiasm about her. She reminded him of a young colt before being broken, full of verve and vigor, content to run wild through the meadow with no destination in mind.
He also appreciated her frankness. She didn’t realize she broke most of the rules society placed upon a young lady, for the set of convent rules she’d lived by for the past eighteen years must have been far different.
Griffith had never met a person with more questions.
Where were they actually going? How far was that?
Why did it take a week to get there? What was the castle like?
Who lived in it? How many tenants did the de Mangerons support?
What kind of crops did they raise? Did they tend any animals?
What were meal times like? How often did they say prayers?
The morning certainly passed quickly as he answered all of Kallen’s questions.
Most of all, he’d enjoyed her scent. Roses.
He hadn’t been pleasured by the scent of a woman since Carina died.
Riding in such close proximity, though, he couldn’t help but inhale the subtle aroma rising from her skin and hair.
She was a breathtaking beauty and totally unaware of her flawless skin and light gray eyes and what that combination—along with her lush figure—could do to a man.
And that troubled him.
He had no worries among the men that accompanied him. All knew Kallen to be nobility linked in some way to the de Mangeron family. He had no fears they would take advantage of her in some way. Far from it. Instead, they would protect her with their lives, if necessary.
It was others he worried about. Sooner or later, news of Kallen’s great beauty would leak, and courtiers would come calling in droves.
Even though Crispin shared with Griffith before he left on his mission to fetch Kallen that he planned a betrothal for her, he had guessed men would come crawling from the woodwork itself, seeking to attach themselves not only to a powerful family, but also to bed a celebrated beauty.
He didn’t want Kallen to become callous or amused by the entire process. He certainly did not want any of those noblemen to take advantage of her extreme innocence with their guile and courtly manners.
By the Christ, he still felt protective of her.
It was a strange feeling, one he’d thought dead and buried.
Carina had brought this out in him long ago.
No woman had since. He was a man, not a saint.
There had been other women since his wife’s death.
Yet none stirred this sense of being a champion that Kallen de Mangeron did in him. It surprised him.
And scared him.
It frightened him that he longed to run warm fingers through her cool, silvery blond hair. To stroke her cheek and see a smile begin to curve her lips. To bend and kiss her ripe mouth, taste her, touch her.
It could not be. She was his charge for a week. Nothing more. He assumed he would see her on occasion when he visited Deva and Crispin at Mangeron. Eventually, Kallen would marry and be gone from there. He wouldn’t give her a second thought.
But she was here now—and giving him much to think about.
Griffith determined to set such foolish notions aside.
Kallen watched Sir Griffith as he checked on the men, issuing instructions, checking supplies, discussing the weather.
He was unique in her experience because meeting a large variety of people did not occur in a convent setting.
A priest appeared every now and then to offer mass, while on occasion a traveler might take refuge in the convent overnight.
But no one’s aura had been that of Griffith Sommersby.
She frowned slightly and then tried to relax and concentrate.
She could always see more if she remained calm.
Kallen picked up on more when he stood in front of something with a neutral background.
As he went and treated his coal black horse to an apple, the colors exploded, taking her aback.
Blue and red always were brightest of all the colors she saw.
They were easily recognizable in others.
Most people had one dominant color that surrounded their person, especially around their head.
These became the easiest to read. Others had not only the aura about their head but a main aura banded about their body.
With some, the hoops of light were thick, usually with varying shades of one color, perhaps two.
Kallen knew various colors could indicate a range of personality traits, but if she were around a person long enough, she could begin to guess at what their aura told of them.
Blue could mean someone was spiritual and sensitive, contemplative and empathetic, generous and honest, sad or wistful, or several other characteristics.
By getting to know someone, Kallen usually could predict what traits that person possessed and many times how he or she might react in certain situations, simply due to their overall aura.
Over the years, she found that auras reflected health, character, mental activity, and the emotional state of others. Especially in the case of her mother, Bevia’s aura showed disease long before the onset of her symptoms.
Griffith Sommersby possessed the most complicated auras she’d witnessed.
Kallen found that a person’s aura rarely changed, only doing so over a long period of time.
Sir Griffith’s changed not only from yesterday, when she’d first laid eyes upon him, but while he engaged others in conversation.
She realized each individual had many facets to his personality, but her aura reading had taught her most people’s personalities were dominated by a handful of traits.
Sir Griffith was a contrast from yesterday to today, and sometimes even minute to minute.
He’d had flashes of red and blue, brown and green, turquoise and yellow, even purple and gold.
The colors swirled about him, first one prevailing and then another, in such a multitude of shades that it caused Kallen to grow dizzy.
How was she to know what her protector was like? She wondered if all the people at Mangeron were as complicated as this man.
The colors surrounding him, thanks to her experience, revealed to her a few things.
He was patient and easy-going, but he possessed an air of sadness about him.
Those were his definite blues. The turquoise showed him to be organized and of a practical nature.
Kallen saw evidence of this in how he directed the party of men.
His purple bands indicated his leadership and bold spirit.
Beyond those, she was utterly confused. No individual had ever affected her so.
She was aware, too, of more than this unusual confusion. Sir Griffith himself did something to her insides. At first she’d thought it was due to leaving Savina and her old life behind. Yet the sick feeling changed into a quickening inside her, an excitement, a nervousness.
It was due to his touch. That’s all she could guess.
Kallen had never experienced a man’s touch before.
The closest she came was when Father Michael gave her the host at communion on his rare trips to the nunnery.
As he placed the wafer upon her tongue, she always felt the heat from his hand near her lips. But he’d never physically touched her.
Griffith Sommersby had done nothing but touch her since they left Savina behind. Oh, Kallen knew there was nothing untoward in these contacts. He must have his arms about her to guide Satan’s reins. He helped anchor her against him as they rode, which lessened her bobbing up and down.
Yet his touch was fire itself, the heat rising from his very male body in a scent unknown to her but far from unpleasant.
He smelled of his horse, his leather riding gloves, and something else that was all male.
That was what brought the tingling inside her.
From her lips to her toes, her body tingled and throbbed like never before.
That was why she’d asked question after question, trying to take her mind to other subjects and places.
She was naturally curious, and she would have asked all these questions in the week to come, but Kallen feared she’d exhausted every idea in her mind in the space of three hours.
The words that flowed fast and furious finally dried up.
That is when Sir Griffith had them stop.
How would she get back up on that horse with him and pretend nothing had happened?
She ached with something so new and fragile, something she had no way to understand and feared she didn’t want to begin to try to do so.
She wished Savina had explained to her how complicated the outside world could be.
“Lady Kallen?”
She turned and smiled pleasantly as he approached her. Suddenly, she caught a glimpse over his shoulder of another man, one she hadn’t spotted in the group before. She always casually studied a crowd, picking up on its differing colors, but this man had remained hidden to her. Until now.
Whoever he was, he wasn’t to be trusted. Of that, Kallen was certain.
Deep red surrounded his entire body, the band fairly glowing with immense anger. A solid band of black totally encircled his head. Kallen sensed a great evil within him. This man was strong and intelligent. And very dangerous.
“Are you ready to mount again and continue upon our journey?”