Boadicea's Legacy Read online

  “I assumed that you were going to Norwich to find a husband, but I may be wrong. Am I?”

  Astute. Aye, the lady was intelligent. Ela answered honestly. “I don’t believe that love is for me, my lady.”

  “Oooh. Intriguing. Did you have your heart broken, then?”

  Ela shook her head. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Men are scoundrels. ‘Tis true that they think nothing of our women’s soft hearts before they tread over the top of us.” Her mouth tightened, and the white makeup showed a crease.

  Ela caught a glimpse of how hard Lady Steffen fought age. “Are you married still, my lady?”

  “Pass me that wine. If we are to talk about husbands, I need a drink.”

  “Here you are, my lady.” Ela removed the cork. Mayhap if she got Lady Steffen drunk, she’d sleep the entire day away.

  Two wineskins and four husbands later, Lady Steffen was lightly snoring and Ela had an earful of gossip that was in no way appropriate—but wonderfully entertaining.

  They stopped for the night at a town large enough for two inns. It was easy for Ela to help Lady Steffen—considering how hard the woman’s life had been. It was amazing that she had the capacity to love at all, and yet her aura showed her to be a passionate lady.

  Ela carried the sewing box and two bags and followed Lady Steffen up the stairs into a small, clean room with a single bed and a cot by the door. Dropping her sewing box on the cot—knowing that she had no chance at the bed—she then set Lady Steffen’s bags by the nightstand.

  “Would you like me to bring you a tray, my lady? Or should I help you dress for a shared meal in the common room downstairs?”

  Lady Steffen sank to the bed. “I’ve a headache. Too much wine—my own fault, but those men always made me drink more than I should.”

  “I can help you, my lady. I’ve a light touch.”

  Lady Steffen opened one eye and leaned on her elbows. “If you can cure a headache, Kathryn, your services as a lady’s maid will be assured.”

  Ela smiled. She hadn’t expected to be good. She sat behind her on the bed. “Lie back, your head in my lap.” Ela put her hands on Lady Steffen’s temples and envisioned healing pinks and light blue swirls of energy.

  “‘Tis warm. Pleasant.” She closed her eyes.

  “Just a few moments more. You can rest and then join us downstairs, if you feel up to it.”

  “Hmm.”

  As soon as Lady Steffen’s breaths were even and her aura back to normal, Ela eased off the bed and out of the room. She headed downstairs in search of Os.

  She found him in the stables, feeding Bartholomew. He looked so … alone, as if he was thinking heavy thoughts—dark thoughts instead of dreams of goat farms and families.

  “Hello.”

  He jerked at the sound of her voice, dropping the bag of feed. He bent to pick it up without a glance in her direction. “Escaping your duties already?”

  “Lady Steffen is fast asleep, thank you, sir.”

  “You wore her out? I thought I heard a lot of chatter going on inside the carriage.”

  “That would have been Lady Steffen. She’s led quite an interesting life. Mayhap I’ll tell you someday.”

  “I am not interested in gossip.” He hung the empty bag up on a peg and shut the stall door behind him.

  When he finally turned to face Ela, she got to see the dark shadows beneath his eyes. Since she couldn’t read his aura, she had to use that physical clue—with his tight shoulders and clenched jaw—to see that he was worried. As usual.

  “Now isn’t the time to decide I wasn’t worth kidnapping.”

  He gave her a reluctant smile before turning away and walking toward a large bale of hay. He sat down and patted the spot next to him. “I haven’t been honest with you.”

  Her heart skipped. “Oh?” She stayed where she was, until he explained further.

  “I have to tell you the truth before we get to the castle. The earl ordered me to find Boadicea’s spear. I had no right to take you from your home against your will. You—intrigued me. I know that is no excuse. But the chances are high that Roger Bigod will send you home as soon as you arrive.”

  He suffered guilt. She joined him on the bale of hay. “Before you bury yourself unconfessed, I would remind you that I was being carried away by Thomas de Havel’s men. You saved me, remember?”

  He nudged her and shook his head. “You escaped on your own. When your father tossed me out on my arse, I shouldn’t have gathered the earl’s men to come back and take you. I told myself I did this for the earl and for the land he would grant me—but I didn’t do what he asked, and bringing you, the blood descendent of Boadicea, is not the same as bringing him the Iceni queen’s fabled spear.”

  Os sounded so upset with himself that Ela put her arm around his shoulders and hugged him close.

  “The truth is, I wanted you. I was blinded by—desire.” He scraped his hair off his forehead. “Ever since I met you, that night in the glen when you—well—this is ridiculous, but I feel as if I know you.”

  Her toes curled with anticipation. This confession could lead to a kiss … certainly something to fan the spark that flamed within her.

  “I’m not worthy of your trust or the earl’s.”

  He stood, rejecting her embrace.

  “What are you saying?” Ela narrowed her eyes, the spark spluttering.

  “When we get to Norwich, I will hand you over to the earl. Albric and Warin will see to it that you return home safely.”

  Her belly turned cold. “Where will you be?”

  “I’m a warrior. A knight. Having my own land was a dream, nothing more. I will make a pilgrimage back to the Holy Land and offer my sword arm for hire. It is what I do.” His voice was hard, and his stance determined.

  If he left, she would never see him again. She felt it in her bones. “You promised my father you would see me home safe. I don’t release you from that pledge.” He couldn’t leave—not if he was the one man she could love. She wasn’t getting any younger, and neither was he.

  His face paled. “Ela … I have to—”

  Ela stood, and pointed her finger at his chest. “You are a quitter.”

  “Never!” His head lifted, and his blue gray eyes turned as dark as the clouds before a storm.

  “Aye,” she said, her body tense. “You let guilt sway you from getting what you want. What good does that do, pray tell?”

  He clenched his fists at his side.

  Ela took a step forward. He would never hurt her, she knew it. But he had to see himself as she saw him—an honorable knight worthy of any prize. “Let me tell you what is going to happen when we get to Norwich. The earl will be in residence, we know that, because Lady Steffen is on her way to visit the countess. Aye, and the earl will see you, and he’ll have questions. You’ll tell him that it was God smiling on you, the day you found me—a living, breathing descendent of Boadicea. You’ll not apologize for being who you are, do you understand?”

  Her breath came fast, and she was mere inches away from him. His broad shoulders were straight and his back stiff, as if he were cautious—of her. She reveled in the power. What would he do if she kissed him now?

  So fast she never saw it coming, he pulled her forward until her mouth was joined with his. He ravaged her with a kiss so hot it melted the last of her anger. Ela slid her arms around his waist, feeling the play of muscles in his lower back as she slipped her hands up to clasp him as close as she could.

  He buried his hands in the tangles of her long hair, then he dropped light kisses on her eyes and nose before returning to the warmth of her eager lips.

  He pulled back. “This,” he said with his forehead pressed to hers, “is why I must leave.”

  “I don’t understand.” Her loins ached, and her heart beat as if she’d run an hour or more.

  “You. I want you so much that I am willing to go to hell.”

  Confusion riddled her thoughts. “Loving me wi
ll send you to hell?”

  She heard him swallow as they stayed locked together, hip to hip. Finally he whispered, “I made a vow of chastity. Until I have land of my own—until I can take a wife … I can’t. It would be the loss of your honor and mine.”

  Ela exhaled, then put her hands to his chest and pushed him away from her. The lack of his heat physically hurt her. “Why did you make such a ridiculous oath?”

  “I was in Jerusalem. I was honoring God.” He rocked back on his heels. “You are everything I can never have—I shouldn’t even want you, and yet you run through my dreams like a succubus.”

  “A demon?” Ela felt her eyes widen with shock. “I told you, I’m no witch!”

  “I believe you—and yet, I’ve seen you with my own two eyes. I am caught in your spell. I’ve seen you heal—is that a miracle? I don’t know. But even if you are the Black Witch of the Sixth Scroll, I wouldn’t care—do you see what you do to me?”

  Ela pinched the bridge of her nose to ward off the oncoming headache. It didn’t help. Her temples pounded with tension. “You … I don’t know what to say to you after that. You think of me as some kind of seed-sucking demon from hell—but you claim not to mind, although you push me away each time we get close. I thought I could love you. Me—Boadicea’s kin, who loses everything by choosing poorly—I thought you might just be the one. Thank God—or whomever—that we had this talk before you truly broke my heart.”

  She pushed past him, blinded by salty tears. She made her way into the yard behind the inn and found a sheltering oak tree. Crying couldn’t ease the pain that felt familiar and ancient—it did nothing but make her eyes itch.

  Henry chittered at her feet, pawing at the toes of her tight slippers before rolling over onto his back to be petted.

  After wiping her face on her apron, Ela gathered Henry to her chest and let him snuggle under her chin. “Osbert Edyvean deserves to be miserable, Henry. I, however, do not. I guess I’ll raise polecats and live in a hut in the forest. I can be crazy Aunt Ela.” She sniffed back the last of the tears.

  Henry shook his head, tickling her neck with his whiskers.

  “But before we do that, we’ll get Osbert Boadicea’s spear—if it exists. My pride demands the fulfillment of my own quest for answers. If it’s true that the Iceni tribe lived around Norwich, then there has to be some sort of record. And if it exists, why does the earl want it? Lastly, if my nightmares are any indication, I believe that Boadicea wants me to find her.” She blew out a hot breath. “And then we will be free of that stubborn man.”

  Chapter

  Eleven

  Os watched Ela leave, and his entire body yearned. He could go after her—but what then? He had nothing to offer her, and he was not so blind that he couldn’t see she had growing affections for him. Logically, he knew it would hurt them both less to stop the feelings now. He tapped his aching heart.

  Even if he was granted a small parcel of land, that didn’t mean he could afford a wife. Not a lady, anyway. Her abilities to heal, or see auras, only served to point out how wrong she was for him. She acted on emotion and thought nothing of giving hugs or kisses. She was as unfettered as the wind.

  He was a restrained knight of God. He’d been to the Holy City, and his spirit had flourished. The Ten Commandments, the seven steps to Scripture—there were boundaries that kept a man on the straight road. Sir Percy’s upbringing of strict faith reminded him every day that the path to God was black and white and held no room for those who strayed.

  And Ela made him want to stray. Hell, she made him want to dive off the path and into the ecstasy he knew he’d find in her arms.

  It couldn’t happen.

  Each time she kissed him, his willpower was sorely tested. There was such a strong pull between the two of them that it had to be magic.

  It sapped his faith and made him doubt that what he’d been taught was true.

  His back tensed as he recalled the lessons Sir Percy had drilled into his back with each switch of the hawthorn branch.

  A good man had to be charitable to other men. Women were never to be trusted. A warrior’s horse was his ally. Always put God before all else. Flesh will turn to dust, the soul is for eternity. Honor separates the strong from the weak.

  Albric found him next. “Brooding?”

  “Thinking,” Os corrected.

  “About your sister or what the earl will say once you arrive without the spear?”

  “I would go straight to hell if she really were my sister.” Os rolled his shoulders, trying to ease the tension. “Lord knows I might go to hell anyway.”

  Albric chuckled. “Bed her.”

  “Nay.”

  “Oh aye … the vow of chastity you made. What kind of man does that?”

  “The kind that wants to prove himself worthy to God.” Os kicked at a bucket.

  “I don’t know what your priest taught ye, man, and I don’t want to. My God hasn’t said anything about not fornicating—except for my neighbor’s wife, or something like that.”

  “Adultery?” Os kept his voice dry.

  “Right.” Albric grinned. “And for the most part, I manage to follow along. But every once in a while, there’s a woman that’s beggin’ for me—”

  “What lies are ye tellin’ now, Albric?” Warin came in, St. Germaine on his heels.

  Os sighed. His search for inner peace had come to a grinding halt.

  “Beef pies and steamed turnips are on the table, lads. The innkeeper insisted that we all sit at the same time.” Warin glared at Albric. “I thought ye were going to find him and bring him inside?”

  Albric shifted from one foot to the next. “He needed cheering up.”

  “So you thought to scare him with stories of your perverted exploits? How many times have you had to escape out the window without your pants, eh?”

  St. Germaine snorted while Os tried not to laugh. It didn’t work. “You make wallowing in self-pity difficult. I don’t want to know about Albric’s lost pants. Let’s go eat.” Os thought of how sad Ela had looked when she’d run from the stable. “And drink. Let’s definitely drink.”

  “That’s the spirit,” Warin said, slapping him on the back.

  “Aye.” St. Germaine agreed.

  Albric ruined everything by asking, “Where’s Ela? She’s probably starving.”

  She was his responsibility. He didn’t resent it, and he wasn’t willing to give her over to the other knights just yet. “You go on ahead. I’ll find her.”

  Warin’s brow furrowed. “At this rate, we’ll never eat.”

  Os patted the handle of his sword. “And who has the bigger weapon—you or the innkeeper?”

  Albric’s smile reached from ear to ear. “I do, by God,

  I do.”

  The three knights turned toward the inn, while Os went the direction Ela had gone. He found her, sitting beneath the tree and talking to Henry.

  She saw him walk toward her. She didn’t run away, which he took as an invitation to continue on.

  Her bare feet were tucked beneath her, the slippers tossed to one side. Henry was curled up in her lap like a cat. Ela’s hair had come unpinned, and it fell down around her shoulders and along the grass like red vines.

  Os dropped to his knees before her. “I apologize for my rudeness this evening.”

  Her green eyes, round and wide, gave away nothing. Had he thought her expressive? She could be a marble statue. And just as cold.

  Was this how he appeared to her? He swallowed, then coughed to clear away the lump lodged in his throat. “You scare me. Because you make me feel things that I never thought I would. I am a knight. I stay alive because I am logical and coolheaded. When I am around you, I want to tell jokes and laugh. You make me think that I can be different.”

  She didn’t move a muscle, and he could only hope that she was listening.

  “If I am not rewarded with land, I will go back to earn my living with my sword until I have enough money to buy some. Ela, I ca
n’t offer you anything, and you deserve everything. I don’t want you to be hurt.”

  Henry stared at him from the safety of his mistress’s lap, his eyes as unblinking as Ela’s.

  “So.” She inhaled. Exhaled. “So. You think that you can tell me how to feel? You think to choose my hurt, or not? Have you learned nothing of me? Above all else, I want the freedom to choose my fate for myself.”

  He bowed his head. He had known that. It just didn’t change anything. “Again, I’m sorry, my lady. I came to tell you that dinner is done. The innkeeper has requested that we all eat together.”

  She closed her eyes, leaning her head back against the trunk of the tree. “Thank you. I am not hungry. Please tell the innkeeper that I am indisposed.” When she opened her eyes again, they were fiery and brilliant and they seared his soul.

  “I release you from your pledge.”

  It felt like she’d cut out his heart.

  Ela stood on trembling legs as Os walked away. The best way to smother the flames of a fire was to douse it in water, so she went in search of the horse trough and dunked her entire body in.

  Lady Steffen found her shivering so hard her teeth were chattering. She carried a large towel over her arm, and her eyes glittered with suppressed mirth. “Only a woman with a broken heart would risk a chill when searching for a new position. If you are trying to kill yourself, Kathryn, I can’t allow it.”

  Ela held on to the edges of the wooden trough, pulling herself out and over the side. “I was but trying to douse the flame of love. I don’t think it worked.”

  “Ah. Well, in thanks for banishing my headache, I will tell you how to vanquish heartache.”

  Ela accepted the warmth of the blanket wrapped around her shoulders. She looked for Henry, who had disappeared—more than likely to the stables to be with Bartholomew.

  “I’m listening,” Ela said with chattering teeth.

  “I ordered hot soup and bread to our room. We can talk while you dry.”

  Within moments, Ela was settled before the fire cocooned in a towel and holding a warm mug of soup in her hands. She took a sip of the thick beef broth.