Chapter Eleven #2
While the guards arranged for more escorts to return to Lady Aoife, the steward ushered Carice and Raine inside.
“We are so very grateful that you protected our lady.” He led them into the tower where they were given the finest room.
A large bed stood at one end, while a warm fire crackled within the hearth.
“Our household would be glad to prepare a feast for both of you.”
Raine glanced at Carice, and addressed the steward in Irish. “We would prefer to eat within this chamber. My lady is unwell.”
She sent him a sharp look, but didn’t argue. Her face was troubled, as if she didn’t want to admit the pain she was suffering.
“Would you like our healer to examine your wife?” the steward offered, and Raine nodded, not correcting the man’s assumption. He wasn’t about to leave Carice alone for any length of time. Besides that, he did want someone with healing skill to see her.
Seeing her so frail and weak the other night had heightened his worry. Not only because of her sickness, but because she had spoken of death so freely.
“I will get food for you,” he promised Carice, after the steward had left them alone. “Let the healer look at you, and she may have medicines that will help.”
“I know I have become a burden to you,” she said softly. Then she went to stand by the window. “You never wanted this journey with me. Especially when your sisters were in danger.”
The sadness in her voice held more than regret. He didn’t know what had prompted her melancholy, but he didn’t want her to speak of it now. Their time together was running out, and he didn’t want it to be shadowed by regret.
He crossed the room to stand behind her. She rested her hands upon the wall on either side of the window, and he wrapped his arms around her waist. “You were never a burden.”
She turned to him, and her blue eyes were filled with such pain. “I think I wanted to believe that there could be something between us. I always thought you were a handsome man, even if you were stern.”
He drew his hand over the curve of her cheek, uncertain of what to say. “If our lives were different, perhaps there would be something more.”
“But they aren’t, are they? You must return to the Normans...and I must live out the remainder of my days alone.”
He cupped her face, wishing to God he didn’t have to betray her. “I must obey my duties. But that doesn’t mean I regret the moments with you.”
“Don’t say it,” she whispered. “I’ve been foolish to imagine that you might stay with me.”
Mon Dieu, how he wanted that. But he had no right to her. “You know I cannot.”
She lowered her gaze, and he pulled her into his embrace. “These days were a gift to me, and I do not regret them.”
She clung to him a moment before she lifted her mouth to his. The gentle brush of her lips sent a bolt of heat raging through him. Although she might be physically weaker, Carice had invisible weapons of her own.
God help him.
An hour later, Carice relaxed in a small wooden tub filled with steaming water.
Her hair was bound up in a knot at the top of her head, and she sighed with relief.
The hot bath was sprinkled with herbs that the healer had recommended for her, and the old woman had given her hot tea made with crushed mint.
The drink had soothed her stomach, and with each hour, she felt better.
She was grateful for the chance to be warm, though her heart had gone cold.
Raine had gone below stairs to fetch food, and while he was gone, it had given her a chance to think.
Her mood was heavy, her mind torn apart with anger and grief.
Though he had not recognized this place, she knew it was the home of Diarmuid MacMurrough, the Irish King of Leinster.
Lady Aoife was his daughter who had been given in marriage to Richard de Clare, the Norman leader also known as Strongbow.
King Diarmuid’s lands were only a short journey southwest of Tara.
Carice drew up her knees in the small tub, so torn about what to do.
It was clear now that Raine had brought her to the east instead of the west. His desire to travel at night was a means of deceiving her, and she suspected he had been obeying orders all along.
More than likely he had intended to deliver her into the hands of the High King.
The thought made her want to scream, to pummel her fists against his chest and release a cry of rage. He had taken advantage of her illness, knowing that she could not stop him. She had been so stupid to believe that he would help her.
Hot tears welled up in her eyes, for she ought to confront him.
She should demand that Raine leave her here, though she knew he wouldn’t.
Instead, he might take her away and give her over to the High King.
Or perhaps to the Norman soldiers they had encountered a few hours ago.
She was certain now that they were his men, and undoubtedly, they had followed him from the beginning.
Hurt balled up inside her that she had let herself believe he cared.
When he had touched her, she had come undone, her emotions crumbling beneath his caress.
Beneath his lies, she’d also sensed the traces of guilt and regret.
Perhaps he did care about her, though he might not admit it.
He could have insisted that they continue traveling; instead, he had stopped here in the afternoon.
Why? Was it because he worried for her health? Or was it because he was wavering in his decision? He had not yet given her into the hands of her enemies.
A grain of an idea took hold within her. Was it possible to change his mind? Aye, Raine was a soldier, a man bound to the king’s will who could not put his own desires first. But what if he decided not to go through with his plans? What if she could convince him to let her go?
Confusion clouded Carice’s thoughts, for she knew not what Raine thought of her. He had protected her, time and again...but was it only out of duty? Had he kissed her, wanting only to deceive her?
She leaned her head back and closed her eyes. Whatever time they had remaining was sliding through her fingers like droplets of water. She didn’t know if there was a way to turn him back from this course. Was it possible?
The door opened quietly, and she shielded herself, only to realize it was him.
Raine had a tray of food in his hands, but he turned away immediately.
After he set down the tray, he lowered the latch to bolt the door.
“Forgive me. I didn’t realize you were—I mean, I should not have entered without knocking. ”
“It’s all right.” But even so, she felt the blush all over her skin. Had he seen her naked body?
Did you want him to? The voice of her conscience was chiding, and she closed her eyes, stammering. “The—the healer thought if I bathed in these herbs, it might help.”
He kept his distance, standing on the far side of the room, his gaze averted. “And did it?”
“Yes. It felt good to be warm.” She studied him closely, wondering what thoughts were going through his mind. A hundred questions passed through her, but she kept silent. If she pretended that she didn’t know what was happening, he might reveal more of his intentions.
Raine’s shoulders were lowered, and he said, “I’ll leave the food here and return later. Shall I send for a maid to help you?”
“Don’t go,” she murmured. “Stay and talk with me a while.”
He kept his back turned. For a while, he remained silent, as if he knew not what to say. “What do you want from me, Carice?”
I want to know why you’ve brought me here. And if you intend to go through with this betrayal.
She bit her lip, wondering what answers he would give. “How much longer will we travel?”
“A day and a half. Perhaps two at the most.” He stood with his palm against the wall, and at least this was an honest answer.
“I suppose you’ll be glad to be rid of me,” she whispered. “After all the trouble I’ve given you.”
And because it will bring you into the High King’s favor.
But what purpose would that serve? He didn’t need King Rory’s favor—he needed the favor of his own ruler, King Henry. Was that why he had been sent? To deliver her into their hands as a show of good faith? The Normans and Irish had a deceptive peace, one that hovered on the brink of war.
“No, I won’t be glad to leave you,” he said. His voice was husky, and she didn’t know whether it was desire or regret she heard within the tone. Her foolish heart wanted to believe that there could be more.
“Come here,” she bade him. She wanted to look into his eyes, to read the thoughts he would not speak.
“I must leave you alone to clothe yourself,” he said. “But I will return.”
He started to go, but she called out to him, “Bring me the drying cloth first.”
Raine hesitated before he reached for the cloth. “I am trying to be honorable with you.” There was a strain within his voice, of a man who was battling his own urges.
Good. She wanted him to be frustrated, to feel the crushing weight of guilt. But more than that, she wanted him to abandon that path, to walk with her in whatever days remained. To find the fragmented pieces of honor that would convince him that surrendering her would not bring his sisters back.
As he approached, he kept his gaze downcast. But she watched his tall form, she let her gaze settle upon his muscled body and the blond hair that gleamed against the fire. She had touched his warm skin, feeling the beating of his heart against her palm.
He held the drying cloth out to her, but there was a slight tremor in his hands, as if he were hovering on the brink of his control.
Carice was beginning to understand that she was in a position of advantage.
And if she could coerce him into changing his mind, this she would do.
She would never wed Rory ó Connor, for she was done with obedience.
The illness had stolen away the life she’d wanted to have, the children she’d wanted to bear.
And she would go down fighting before she would let Raine de Garenne hand her to an enemy.
“Will you help me from the tub?” she asked.
The drying cloth fell from his hand. “You don’t know what you are asking.”
He was wrong in that. She knew exactly what she was doing—using every possible means of changing his mind.
“I may fall if I try to get out of this tub without your assistance.” She kept her tone light, but he didn’t smile. He held the drying cloth, but when he stared at her, she felt a sudden wave of shyness.
She was asking him to come closer, this man who had lied to her and brought her closer to her enemies. He might have conspired with her father, for all she knew. And yet, when she looked into his green eyes, she saw a man haunted by the past. The lines of his face revealed untold suffering.
“You ask too much of me. If I lift you from that tub, I’ll not be able to stop myself from touching you.”
She kept herself hidden within the water and regarded him. “Is that what you want?”
His green eyes burned into hers. “What I want and what is right are two different things.”
At that, she stood up from the tub, revealing herself to him.
Water trickled down her naked body, down the slight curves of her breasts and her body that was too thin.
Inwardly, she was trembling from fear. She was taking the greatest risk, hoping that he would somehow turn away from duty. “I understand.”
This was seduction, an offering she should not give.
She knew that these were the actions of a woman of loose virtue.
But there was far more beneath the surface of her offering.
There was fear, a trace of shame, and worry that he would remain fixed upon his decision.
Her heart was pounding, and at his silence, she wondered if she had made a mistake.
“Look at me,” she commanded, “and answer me with truth. In two days, will you be relieved that you will not see me again?”
He bent down and retrieved the drying cloth, his knuckles clenching against the linen. Slowly he lifted it around her shoulders, the cloth shielding her body.
He lifted her from the tub and brought her to stand before him. “You know not the man I am. Or the things I have done.”
Oh yes, she did know. But what she wanted to know was whether she could change his course. Carice reached up to take his face in her palms. “Is that the man you want to be? Or would you forsake your duties to stay with me?”
He closed his eyes, and she saw the rigid tension within him. “Do you want these hands upon you? These hands that have slain countless men?” He dropped his voice even lower. “Why do you offer yourself to me, when we both know I will leave?”
“Because I believe that you don’t want to go.”
He captured her hands upon his face, and the expression in his eyes was of a man drowning in need. “I don’t deserve a woman like you. Not after what I’ve done.”
His words took on a deeper meaning, for she was well aware of it. “Then change it. Be a different man.”
He brushed his thumb over her lips, sliding his hand down the curve of her throat. “Would that it were possible.”
“It is possible,” she whispered. “Come away with me. Let me live out the rest of my days with you.”
“I cannot. My sisters—”
“Do you truly think the king will free them?” she asked. “Or will he only use them to manipulate you?”
“Don’t—” he shot back. “My life is not my own. My choices are not my own.”
“Because you let them lead you by strings. You follow your commander’s will blindly.” She reached down for his hands, knowing her words were cruel. “But how do you even know your sisters are still alive?”
He jerked his hands away. “I don’t.”
She let the drying cloth fall away and lifted her arms around his neck. “Make your own choices, Raine. And live by them, whatever they are.”
His bare hands slid down her back to the curve of her bottom. “You’re asking me to make the wrong choice, Carice.”
She leaned in and rested her cheek against his armor. “No, Raine. I’m asking you to make the right one.” She wanted him to turn away from his orders, to break the chains that bound him to duty.
“Give me a memory,” she answered. “When I am dying, I want to know that I lived every day to its fullest. And when I think of you, I will smile.”
“I promise you, you won’t smile. I am not the man you want.” His expression held the grim cast of a soldier who intended to betray her. He was tormented not only by the past, but by the choices ahead. There was no peace for him, and he was determined to push her away.
“Your past matters not to me,” she said quietly. “But am I wrong to think that you care about me?”