Carice tried to push back her attraction and instead squeezed his fingers. “Thank you, Raine. I am so grateful that you changed your mind about traveling with me.”
He acknowledged her thanks with a slight nod, but there was an unreadable expression on his face—almost like guilt. But she didn't doubt his honor at all. He would never lay a hand upon her.
Unless she wanted him to. The thought ignited her senses, making her crave things she shouldn't want. With reluctance, she forced her attention back to their journey.
They continued riding with the MacEgan soldiers until Laochre lay far beyond the horizon. The harsh landscape was mottled with white snow and darker mud. To take her mind off the journey, Carice tried to think of the west coast. She had visited her family there only once, but she had never forgotten the stark beauty. The water had been sapphire while green fields embraced the rocky hills. The sky was so vast, the clouds seemed to drift down to the water’s edge in feathered wisps.
It was a good place for anyone to live out their remaining days. Weariness slid over her, and she leaned against her horse, resting her head against the animal’s mane. She rode for the lastmile, imagining a life where she could sit and simply watch the world go by.
“Carice,” came Raine’s voice. She opened her eyes and saw that they were near the forest. “We’re here.”
She nodded in relief, and he spoke quietly to the MacEgan soldiers before dismissing them to return to Laochre. When they were alone, he helped her dismount and led her into the shadowed trees.
Frost coated the fallen leaves upon the ground, leaving tips of silver. She leaned against Raine as he led her deep into the forest. When they were surrounded by trees, he turned his back. “I’ll stand guard while you remove the armor and put on your gownonce more.”
She fell silent for a moment, wondering if she could manage this by herself. Though she could remove the helm and coif, letting her hair fall to her shoulders, the rest of the armor was heavier than she’d ever thought it could be. It was impossible to lift her arms above her head. And while most women would simply struggle their way through it, she knew her limitations.
“Would you help me?” she asked quietly.
He stiffened at her request, though he must know how difficult this was. The illness had taken too great a toll upon her body, and she needed his assistance. Slowly, he turned around and regarded her. She tried to hold out her arms, needing him to lift the chainmail hauberk from her torso. “Lift your arms,” he bade her.
At that, her mouth twisted into a smile. “If I could do that, I wouldn’t need your help.”
The sudden flare in his eyes made her self-conscious. She was well aware of how this must seem to him. Already they were alone, and now she had asked him to undress her. But what did it matter? She was incapable of removing the armor.
Raine reached for the heavy sleeves and held each one while she pulled out her arms, one at a time. Then he rested his hands at her waist.
He could have lifted the hauberk away. But instead, his green eyes caught hers in invitation. Carice was fully aware of his hands tracing her silhouette, gently skimming her flesh as he moved higher.
Her attention grew fixated upon his mouth. She wanted him to kiss her again, the way he had only yesterday. Desire flowed through her, and she craved more from this man. She leaned closer to him, reaching out to touch his forearms. His skin was hot, his muscles tight as he drew the armor over her head.
She was relieved to be rid of the heavy weight, but theléineshe wore was too thin to offer any protection from the cold. She shivered, crossing her arms over her breasts. Inwardly, her thoughts were in turmoil. She wanted this man in a way she’d never anticipated. And though it was an immoral, terrifying thought, she wanted his touch upon her skin. Something about this Norman soldier transformed her from quiet and sickly into a woman who craved a different life. With each day she spent at his side, she felt stronger, more whole.
He was still going to leave her behind—she had to remember that.
Raine moved to her horse and reached inside the leather pouch to find her overdress. She watched him, wondering if he was having the same thoughts.
He tossed the gown to her and turned his back once more. “Clothe yourself, Lady Carice.”
Apparently she was wrong. Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment as she dressed quickly, struggling to remove the trews. When she had finished, she told him, “You can turn around now.”
Raine took the armor and folded it, placing it inside another saddle bag. Then he found a flask of water and drank for a moment, passing it to her. She sipped the water, wondering if she had imagined the desire between them. He had kissed her the morning he’d been in chains and had agreed to come with her on this journey. But now, it seemed that he was trying to keep her at a distance. Did he feel any attraction at all toward her?
“You need to eat,” he said, returning to the saddle bag. Her cheeks warmed, and she was all too conscious of her thin frame. Her illness was as unpredictable as the rain, and she could never tell if it would be a good day or a bad one.
Raine brought out a cloth-wrapped bundle of food. Inside was half a wheel of cheese, slices of beef, and dried cherries. She stood near him, and he tore off a piece of meat, passing it to her. The food tasted delicious, and she savored every bite. The ground was too cold and wet to sit down, so they both remained standing. Raine held out the cloth bundle between them.
“You seem to be feeling better,” he said. “From earlier, I mean.”
“I am still tired,” she admitted, “but my stomach doesn’t hurt so much.”
He ate some of the cheese and passed it to her. “Has it always been this way? Do you not eat because it hurts?”
She shrugged, reaching for more of the beef. “When I was younger, it wasn’t this bad. It was only during the last year when it hurt every day to eat.” She had grown to loathe mealtimes, for it only brought pain and suffering. Whenever her father hosted a feast, she tried to avoid them, for every time she ate, she grew ill.
“Could someone have been poisoning you?” he prompted. “Someone who wanted you to die?”
She shook her head. “Others ate the food that I could not bear to touch. The healer tried everything to help me. He bled me, he tried teas. Nothing worked.” Just remembering those days made her stomach ache. But despite her certainty that it wasn’t poison, she couldn’t help but wonder why some of her symptoms had lessened after she’d left Carrickmeath.
