Page 41 of The Herald's Heart
“Oh aye, but Larkin is better at it than most of us. And she has the time; we who labor for the earl do not. Liar or not, God blessed Hawking Sedge when he sent her to us from the abbey. She gathers wood for our fires, takes candles from the anchoress to the keep, carts water and food to the men in the fields. Without Larkin, our lives would be much more difficult.”
No wonder the villagers refused to accept her claim of nobility. Likely she provided the only ease these poor folk had in their lives. Were she titled, the villagers could not count on her continued generosity, especially if they thought all nobles to be like their own earl. Talon was coming to realize that Larkin possessed a truly noble spirit whether she held the title of lady or not.
“Return to the keep. If she is there, send a messenger to the abbey. I want to remedy anything that might delay the medicine for Aedwin.”
Cleve rode off, and Talon headed for the abbey. Despite his worry for Larkin, Aedwin needed the medicine the abbey made. If any could be had, it would be there. Several weeks had passed since he and Larkin were last there. The nuns may have gotten the burn blossoms from someone else. He put his faith in Larkin’s inventiveness and determination, but urged his horse to greater speed.
At the abbey, he learned a runner was already on his way to Hawking Sedge with a fresh pot of burn balm for Aedwin. Larkin had brought as many blooms as she could carry, then gone back for more at Mother Clement’s request.
His mind relieved of one worry, Talon asked directions to the woodland pool where Larkin gathered flowers. The abbess suggested, since the day grew late, that he would be best served to return to the keep and his bed. Larkin and her escort would find shelter at the abbey if darkness prevented their return to Hawksedge.
The abbess was right. Returning to the keep and his bed was exactly what Talon should do. But wise as Mother Clement might be, too many factors lay beyond his control. He could not rest easy until he saw for himself that Larkin was still safe.
Dusk would give way to full dark soon. That last attack on Larkin had come at dusk. Why hadn’t Cleve sent a more experienced man with her? One who would insist on returning to the keep before dark. One who could fight off an attack with more certainty than a green lad.
The same fears that made him scour the countryside when he thought she’d broken her word and escaped gripped Talon now. All manner of danger lurked in the night. Wild animals, natural hazards like stones or holes in the path, thieves and other rogues, to say naught of whoever might wish to see dead any troublesome reminders of Lady Larkin Rosham. The need to see her, touch her, became as necessary as breathing.
She had a guard—such as he was. The lady had run tame without coming to harm in these woods for more than a year, logic insisted. He reined in fears and his horse when he came upon the path to the forest pool. Larkin had best be alive and well. If not, he would make certain she would regret causing him the smallest worry.
Very little light pierced the trees where tendrils of fog scurried. Talon peered through the branches and recalled another fog-shrouded night. So much had changed. Where he’d once thought to protect the keep from a lying, thieving woman, he now sought to protect that same woman. That he and she were on opposite sides of a claim to Hawksedge could not matter. That he desired her physically could not matter. What was important now was keeping her safe so all the other problems could be resolved. The idea that he might fail in his knightly duty to keep her safe and make resolving their problems impossible turned his stomach.
Was that a light glimmering ahead? The trickle of water running over stones met his ears, and he emerged from the forest to the edge of a glade where water from a brook gleamed black against the patchy mist. Flattened grasses marked the path he followed as it turned upstream. He guided his horse in their wake and halted near a small bush where the path stopped at a pool, probably the wellspring of the brook.
From his saddle, he surveyed the area and sighed. No Larkin. ’Twas too late to search farther. He would be lucky to find his way back to Hawking Sedge without mishap. He made to turn his mount when he heard a small gasp. He pulled his horse to a stop once more and swiveled his head, searching out the source of the noise. There, in the place where the mist spilled out from the trees on the far side of the pool.
He had seen her like this before, a slim pale column in a gloomy night. But he had not known her then. Did not truly know her now. Although he had witnessed evidence of her strength, her courage, her quickness of wit. He had heard the tale of sorrows that she survived. He had seen glimpses of her true beauty. He had touched her and desired her with a longing that increased with every meeting. That desire surged through him anew. His fear melted as the fog before the sun. She stood poised at the edge of the wood, her arms filled with strange blooms. They shivered with each breath that trembled forth to blend with the mist.
She was cold. Talon dismounted, absently tethered his horse to a bush beside her steed, and strode for the opposite side of the pool, removing his cloak as he went. He kept his gaze on her and knew the moment she recognized him.
“Nay.” The flowers dropped to the ground as she turned to leave.
He heard the word whispered above the water, the only sound in the darkling hush of the forest.
“Wait. Please.” His plea echoed back, sounding desperate even in his own ears.
She halted before she had taken a full stride, then shifted to watch his approach.
What held her, he could not tell. He only knew relief that she remained.
Not soon enough, he stood before her, the gilt fire of her hair less than a hand’s length from his reach. “You are cold.” He held out his cloak.
Mute, she took it from him and wrapped it around her, shielding herself from the damp and her form from his sight.
“Are you well?”
She nodded.
Damn, why did the woman not speak?
“Where is your escort?”
“We are so close to the abbey, I sent Albert to the keep. I did not want him to miss his supper. I promised him I would stay at the abbey until he could come and get me tomorrow morning.”
“A week on midden duty will teach Albert better than to leave an assigned post.”
“Nay, do not punish him for following my orders.”
“He must learn that you may not order him or any other of the keep’s guards. His lesson will teach the others as well.”
