Part 1 (1/2)
HEALING Pa.s.sION.
KATHERINE KINGSTON.
Chapter One.
”Sir Thomas? Are you sure a messenger was sent to Groswick to inform them of our coming?”Thomas shook himself out of an exhausted half-doze and followed his squire Ralf's line of sight straight ahead to where their destination loomed. The reason for the question was clear.
The place looked incredibly forbidding, inhospitable, and unwelcoming.
The huge, dark, stone fortress had a four-story main keep surrounded by a two-story wall. The remote setting, with the keep hedged in on two sides by hills and accessed by a road through a narrow pa.s.s to the gate, contributed to the feeling. Even as they approached, an enormous portcullis remained adamantly closed over a heavy wood
door. No movement or greeting of any kind indicated they'd been spotted or would be welcomed.Thomas was used to being greeted with courtesy, and sometimes even with elaborate pomp and ceremony. He didn't favor excessive display, but the complete lack of welcome here dismayed him. This mission had already taken too much time and too much travel.
”The herald said his message had been delivered.” Thomas sighed and rubbed at his throbbing head. He just wanted to be done with this Groswick affair. He was close to thirty, getting too old for this, though his friends would laugh did they ever hear him say so. His tired bones wanted rest. But even more, his spirit craved a place to call home. Not so much a place, though, he realized, probing feelings kept long buried as one would test a damaged tooth to see how much pain it could cause. He wanted family, people he could settle with and become close to. He longed for peace, order, a secure and comfortable place to lay his head at night.
Once before, he'd had all that, but a woman's lies had torn apart and destroyed it. Now, however, after two years spent watching his closest friends find comfort and happiness in marriage to extraordinary ladies, the seed that had lain dormant for so long sprouted and began to unfurl. He wanted what they had, or at least some reasonable shadow of it.
Both of his closest friends had found unusual and special women to fill their hearts. Women who could love and submit freely to their husbands, yet still be strong, brave, and intelligent. They'd had to be. Lady Rosalind and Lady Mary had each survived terrible things and come through desperate tests, emerging stronger and wiser from them.
He sighed and set those thoughts aside. For now he faced the problem of entrance into
this dreary and shuttered keep. He expected at any moment to see the portcullis rise in acknowledgement of his arrival. No one could think one knight traveling with only his squire and one other va.s.sal represented any threat. But though they rode up close to the gate and stopped there, nothing happened.
The drizzle turned into a full-bore rain as the gray remains of the day faded into twilight. Thomas watched the wall around the gate and the guard tower over it. He caught periodic flashes of movement. The place wasn't deserted, and their presence must have been noted.
After waiting a good while, Thomas rode forward, signaling his companions to remain
behind. He stopped just below the gate.”Greetings! I am Sir Thomas of Carlwick. I come in peace, in the name of the king.” He shouted, trying to make the words as forceful as they were loud. ”Open for the king's representative.”
He backed away, rejoining Ralf and Bertram. Again they waited, expecting that the
order would bring quick action. It didn't.His helmet kept most of the rain off his face, but the moisture still leaked beneath his chain mail byrnie and soaked his undergarments. Daylight was fading quickly, and he had no wish to spend the night camped out on the plain.
When his patience wore out, he rode forward again. ”I am Sir Thomas of Carlwick. I represent the king. Admit me or risk the king's wrath and the weight of his might on you.”
On the rampart above the gate and in the guardhouse, figures scurried around. After another pause long enough to set him grinding his teeth, a metallic screech finally signaled their impending admission. Nonetheless, they still had to linger another fifteen minutes in the drenching rain while the portcullis creaked upward and the heavy wood gates swung ponderously open.
He was in no good humor when they were finally able to enter the grounds. They stopped in the bailey. A groom and a pair of stable boys came forward and a.s.sisted them to dismount, then took charge of their horses.
A man in livery appeared at the top of the stairs that clung to the side of the keep wall, standing at the main door, waiting to invite them in. Weary to the bone, they climbed the steps and stood before the servant.
”I'm Sir Thomas of Carlwick,” he announced again. ”My squire Ralf and my man, Bertram.” The servant bowed.”Enter and be at peace, Sir Thomas,” the man invited. ”I'll announce your arrival to Lady Juliana.”
Instead of letting directly into the main hall, the door gave into an anteroom, where Sir Thomas removed his helm and shook rain off his cloak. Perhaps it was the gloomy
weather outside or the fact that only two torches in high brackets illuminated the area, but the tall, undecorated stone walls of the entranceway loomed forbiddingly and the whole had an air of mourning or despair.
The man led them into the great hall, announcing Sir Thomas's arrival as they entered. Here the atmosphere lightened. More torches brightened the area, a.s.sisted by the blazing fire, which burned in an enormous fireplace on a side wall. The aromas of roasted meat, fresh-baked bread, and ale a.s.saulted him and set his stomach rumbling. For all that, though, no more than two dozen people occupied a room which could easily have held a hundred or more. The table on the dais at the far end was empty.
A woman rose from the center of the side table where most of the people gathered and approached him. Her clothes were of good quality cloth, though plain, and she wore a simple cap on her head. She was young, very pretty, and carried herself with regal grace.
”Sir Thomas,” she said, dropping into a deep curtsy. ”Welcome to Castle Groswick. I'm Lady Juliana. I regret we kept you waiting so long in the rain, but I fear we were unprepared for visitors, and the guards on duty have little experience. They knew not what to do and perforce needed to confer with their superiors prior to making a decision to admit you.” Her voice was sweet, but had a surprisingly rough, hoa.r.s.e undertone.
She looked at him closely, no doubt noticing how the rain plastered his hair to his head and dripped off his nose and armor. ”Please come close to the fire and dry off, Sir Thomas. Your men, also. Quarters are being prepared for you even now, but as we were not told the date of your coming, it will be some time yet before they're ready.”
She moved toward the large fireplace, and he followed, with Ralf and Bertram behind him. The warmth washed over and soothed him as they approached the blaze. It mitigated some of his anger. Thomas stripped off his gauntlets and rubbed his cold hands together near the fire.
”I've sent for mulled wine and food for you as well,” the lady said. ”As you see we're a small household, but we do try to receive guests hospitably.”A servant appeared bearing a tray with cups and a pitcher of steaming liquid. The aroma-the tang of wine laced with cinnamon and other fragrant spices-hit him forcibly in the gut.
Lady Juliana poured out the mixture into a cup, which she brought to him.Their hands met as he took the cup from her. Warmth flowed from the clay vessel into the palms he wrapped around it, a blessed, welcome heat. Something else flowed into his fingers in the places where they touched Lady Juliana's, a warmth of a different kind. It sparked and tingled, sending a river of fire through his veins and into his loins. His c.o.c.k took notice and stood immediately to attention.Thomas smothered a groan as he fought the reaction. He'd gone years with no more than the occasional meaningless joining. Only once since Margaret's betrayal had he felt the stirrings of anything beyond physical need, and the woman who'd provoked it was married to his closest friend. Was he doomed to be roused only by those beyond his reach? This lady was married as well, and any attraction to her could only complicate his mission and his life. But she was a lovely woman, with a slender, graceful figure, and glossy, dark brown curls escaping from her cap to give her a winsome air.
He drew a deep breath and looked down into the cup before he sipped, watching the way the darkish liquid swirled as he tipped it. He took a drink and didn't have to feign enjoyment or relief. The flavor matched the aroma, a sharp brew of fermented fruit laced with the taste-pleasing enhancements of the spices. It warmed his mouth and spread the heat all the way down as he drank deeper. Tense muscles, especially in his shoulders and back, began to loosen and relax.
He closed his eyes for a moment to relish the taste of the liquid and the feel of the warmth. When he opened them again, he made the mistake of meeting Lady Juliana's gaze directly.
Her eyes were an unusual light blue/green shade, large, clear, and direct. They sparkled with her smile of welcome for him, but... Surely it was his imagination that led him to think he saw another world of emotion just below the surface. Yet he would swear he found in her gaze an innate strength, endurance, courage, shades of sorrow or grief, and more... Oh, no, he didn't need or want to see that. He could admire the pa.s.sion she held in firm check, but he would have to take care to avoid it. She belonged to another man-if that man were still alive, something he had begun to doubt.
He pulled his gaze away from her eyes and let it roam the rest of her face. Her fine, clear, pale skin bore a few light freckles, mostly around her slim nose. They didn't damage her looks at all. The scars did, unfortunately, though the beautiful line of cheek and jaw drew attention away from them and almost nullified their effect.
The uglier of the two was a line that curved from just above her left cheekbone to her temple. Even though it showed tiny circular marks on either side of the scar where it had been st.i.tched closed, it was still almost a quarter-inch-width of whitish flesh. The other was a narrower, straighter line from almost the middle of her chin up and across to an inch or so beyond the corner of her mouth. The pinker coloration suggested it was a more recent addition.
Oddly, he found they increased rather than destroyed her attractiveness. The newer one bracketed her lips and emphasized their lovely curve and rich pink color. They marked her as a woman who'd experienced some of life's darker side rather than a naive young girl.
He didn't think he'd shown any reaction to the scars, but after a moment her lips tightened and some of the sparkle faded from her eyes, so apparently she'd noticed something. The scars looked like many he'd seen on men following a battle, which made him wonder how they came to be on the face of a young and otherwise lovely woman.
Something about her bearing said she would not want to talk of them.