Page 80 of The Herald's Heart
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Long days later, when she was finally able to leave her bed, Larkin descended the stairs from the solar, looking for Talon. He’d been avoiding her, and she decided to confront him. She must convince him that she had changed her mind. They could work out their trust issues, even if being his stepmother meant they could never again share the passion they’d found on the beach.
She found him in the bailey training with some of the new knights. Amis was traveling south with messages to King Edward and had promised to spread the word that knights were needed at Hawksedge. According to Alice, who’d brought Larkin’s meals, men had been arriving since the day after Amis left.
“Well, that is good news,” she’d said. As she’d eaten the hearty soup the cook had brought, Larkin wondered what, if anything, more men at Hawksedge might mean for Rosewood. Now that Le Hourde was dead, Rosewood stood without a master or even—as far as she knew—anyone to oversee matters until ownership of the castle could be decided. ’Twas one more thing she must discuss with Talon. It might be better to begin there, than to plunge into the murky waters of trust between them.
She stopped at the short fence that marked off the training area and waited while her knight and a new man exchanged blows with blunted swords.
Shirtless and sweaty, Talon was a sight to please any lady. She had hopes that the two of them could soon spend much more time pleasing each other.
The bout ended with a shaking of hands and much backslapping. Talon turned in her direction as his squire brought a bucket of water and a clean shirt.
Talon doused himself, slipped his shirt over his head, stared straight at her, and then turned on his heel and strode quickly in the opposite direction.
Oh no you don’t. I’ll not allow you to avoid me any longer.“Sir Talon,” she called out loud enough that all in the bailey could hear. “Are you a coward?”
He spun around with his mouth hanging open.
From every corner, she heard gasps and titters. “Well?”
“Do not do this, Lady Rosham.”
His formality conveyed chilly anger.
“Do not do what? Call coward a man who runs away at the sight of me?”
His fists clenched, and he advanced on her faster than he’d been walking away. She almost quailed beneath the force of emotion that sped her way. But she stood her ground. Never show fear. And she was afraid. Afraid that by forcing a confrontation, she may have driven him farther away.
“Come,” he snarled. He grasped her arm and dragged her with him—much as he had done the morning after he’d found her haunting the keep. She scampered to keep pace with him all the way into the stables, down the row between the stalls, through a door at the far end, and into a tiny room. He placed her on the only stool, slammed and bolted the door, and then took a seat on a wooden box.
She waited, certain he was not calm enough to speak.
He thrust his hands through his hair. Looked at her. Looked away. Looked back. “You have no reason to call me coward.” Confusion glared in his eyes, and hurt sat in his hunched shoulders.
She longed to ease his troubles, but she couldn’t allow empathy to distract her—not until they reached an understanding. She finally had his attention, and she would make every use of the opportunity.
“Then why do you avoid me?” Would he trust her with the truth? No, he would not. She saw it in the narrowing of his eyes and almost lost heart.
“Because I vowed to remove myself from your presence, if God would let you live.”
She stared in astonishment. He’d told the truth. Such a vow was so incredibly stupid and noble at the same time that it had to be true. No one would create such a thing as a lie. “Why in the world would you do something so absurd?”
“You were dying.” Unmistakable anguish lived in his words.
“Did Mother Clement tell you that? ’Twas she who tended my wounds and directed my care for the past weeks.”
“She did not have to say anything. Father Timoras had already said naught could be done.”
“And you believed him? He has much less skill and knowledge than Mother Clement.”
“You don’t know how much blood you’d lost. You did not see the gash in your skull. I’d seen men die from wounds much less severe.”
“Men who did not get treatment from Mother Clement.”
Talon blinked for a long moment. “You are right. Few if any physicians and healers are readily available in battle.”
She sighed. Her goal of trust had just become much more difficult to achieve. “Once again, you lacked faith in me and my will to survive.”
