Exhausted, she stumbled toward the bed, seeking its comfort. She huddled beneath the woolen coverlet, so grateful for a place to sleep. It didn’t matter if someone had been here before her, or if they were still here. Nothing else mattered except being warm and sheltered.
But as she drifted off, Carice sensed a presence in the room...almost as if someone was watching over her.
The woman sleeping on his bed was the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen. From the moment he’d heard her enter the abbey, Raine de Garenne had watched over her from the spiral stairs,remaining in the shadows while she had explored the sanctuary. He didn’t know why she was here, but it was clear she was alone.
Fragile, too, like a snowflake upon his palm. She had collapsed after reaching his room, and now she was sharing the very bed he’d slept in.
Why was she here? He remained standing in the shadows against the far wall until he was certain she was asleep. The room was growing colder since the peat fire he’d lit earlier was dying down.
He added more fuel to the hearth until the fire grew hot. The dim light illuminated her features better. Her long dark hair was not black as he’d imagined, but a warmer brown with hints of gold and red. It hung to her waist, and her skin was pale against the coverlet. How had she come to the abbey, and why was she alone? He couldn’t imagine anyone leaving a woman like her unguarded unless they had died trying to protect her.
His mood grew somber as he thought of his own failings.You should have died for Nicole and Elise, his conscience taunted.You should have sacrificed your life for theirs. He was haunted by his sisters’ fate even two years later. He’d believed he could get close to them and free them from captivity by joining King Henry’s soldiers. Instead, he had been sent to fight with the Irish Sea separating them. He should have known that the king’s men would never let him remain near his family.
But there was no means of unraveling the past, no reason to dwell upon the bitter memories now. Nothing would change his sisters’ fate until he carried out the king’s orders. He would return to his commander just after dawn, and if he succeeded in his task, he might win their freedom.
Raine held fast to the thought, for it was the only shred of hope remaining.
Now, he questioned what to do about the woman. Raine pulled a chair beside the fire, considering his choices. She didn’t belong in the abbey any more than he did. He rested his forearms upon his knees, and the amber firelight revealed a long scar—a visible reminder of the battles he’d faced. Most of his scars and burned flesh were hidden beneath his chainmail armor, the cost of survival.
He stared into the fire, knowing he had no right to live. As a soldier, he’d stolen countless souls from the earth. He ought to feel guilty about their deaths, but he didn’t. There was a stony sense of emptiness where his heart had once been. His sisters’ lives depended upon his obedience. He was chained to this life of a Norman soldier that he didn’t want, and he would continue to fight until he had earned back their freedom or he died. He had put aside any dreams he might have held for his own future, for he deserved this prison after failing to save his parents.
Mercenary, some had called him. A heartless murderer, the Irish would say. His soul was already damned, according to the priests, and he regretted nothing. As long as his sisters were alive and whole, none of it mattered.
Raine moved to stand beside the young woman, and her scent caught his attention. The air of innocence surrounded her, and her face was soft, like a spring morning. He doubted if this woman had ever touched a weapon in her life.
He leaned down, reaching to touch a lock of her hair. It was not a heavy silk like other women he had known. No, it was fragile, like her—tangled and damp from the journey. Ashe studied her more closely, he realized how very thin she was, half-starved and frail. This was not a woman who had missed a meal or two. She was fighting for her life.
He’d seen folk who had starved to death before, men and women alike. And although he shouldn’t care what happened to a stranger, he felt an invisible force drawing him closer. She needed someone to watch over her, someone to take care of her—the way he wanted someone to protect his sisters.
His mood darkened as he went to fetch her another blanket from the chest. He laid it over her, and she moved slightly, snuggling close within the blanket.
Dieu, how long had she been walking outside? He thought about awakening her but decided to let her sleep. She looked exhausted from her journey. He adjusted the blanket and touched her hair once again. His questions could wait until morning.
Raine lit a torch in the hearth and then left the room, closing the door to keep in the heat. He walked down the stairs and through the sanctuary. Although the worship space was untouched by fire, he could feel the presence of the holy men...and their screams haunted him still.
He blamed himself for their deaths, for being unable to save them. The devastating fire had claimed the lives of every man, and he’d been granted only a few days’ leave to bury the bodies.
Raine walked outside to the kitchen, needing a distraction. He had eaten his own meal hours ago, and the truth was, he knew very little about cooking. Among the Norman soldiers, his food consisted of hunting meat and roasting it. However, the monks who had once lived here had root vegetables storedunderground before they’d been attacked. He supposed he could find something for the woman to eat.
He paused, feeling like a thief. But dead men had no need of food, he reminded himself. There was no bread, but he found dried meat he didn’t recognize, parsnips, and some walnuts. Would she like any of it? He wasn’t certain, but it would have to suffice. Raine started to gather it up in a bundle, but then he stopped short.
What in the name of the Rood was he doing? Bringing her food and blankets as if she were a treasured guest? She was a stranger and an intruder. He ought to awaken her and demand to know why she was here. There was no reason to let her stay.
Raine seized the food and strode through the kitchens, slamming the door behind him. He didn’t know this woman. He didn’t know anything about her except that she was dangerously weak, and the sight of her stole his breath.
It was an undeniable fact that she would die if he turned her away. And the last thing he wanted was one more death on his conscience.
But he could save her.
Raine slowed his pace back to the donjon, letting out a low curse. He knew what would happen to a beautiful woman traveling alone, if he forced her to go. He bit back a curse at the thought.
She’s not your responsibility. You must return to your commander and your duties.
He knew that. But when he entered the sanctuary and climbed the stairs bearing the bundle of food, he couldn’t stop thinking about his sisters. They were alone in England, hostagesof the king. Was anyone protecting them? Or were they at a stranger’s mercy, like this woman was?
No, she was not his to protect. But neither would he abandon her. He had finished burying the holy men, and before he returned to his commander and the other soldiers, he could bring her to safety. At least then he would know that she had come to no harm.
Raine pushed the door open, and the chamber was warm and inviting. The peat fire glowed upon the hearth, casting shadows within the room. A simple cross hung upon one wall, and beside the hearth was a wooden chair. The woman was sleeping within his bed, her breathing deep and even. He moved silently, setting the food down on a low table before returning to the shadows.
