Read Online Immortal Champion by Lisa Hendrix - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Lisa Hendrix
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very night.”
“You said leapt, my lady. I said fell, even then.”
“How strange you so easily recall what you said when you struggled to recall me,” she said tartly, shrugging off her father’s hands. “I say we could not have fallen. I had barely a bruise.”
“You told me that night that you ached, my lady,” reminded Gunnar, laughing himself now. “And I know I did.”
“Whatever aches you felt, they were surely less than the sting of your burns. Your very shirt was—”
“Aaah.”
“Almost burned off y—” The groan carried Lady Eleanor to her feet mid-word. “ Madame ?”
“Joan?” Lord Ralph hurried back to kneel at his wife’s side. They exchanged a few hushed words, and then he rose to scold her. “You should have told me, instead of trying to outlast both mêlée and meal. And I should have noticed. It isn’t as though I haven’t seen this before. Mary, Eleanor, the rest of you. Come, it is time. Someone fetch the midwife.”
A page dashed toward the door, and Eleanor started toward her mother. She’d gone only a few steps when she stopped and turned back. “Forgive me, Sir Gunnar, but I am needed. You will still be here on the morrow, I hope.”
Yes, he wanted to say, but it wasn’t possible. He needed to see to Jafri’s safety before he could deal with anything else. “I fear not, my lady. I have business to attend, but—”
“Not again! But I have a gift for you, and I cannot give it now.” She glanced anxiously toward where her sisters and the other women surrounded her mother.
And that’s when he saw it, the silver comb that caught her braid at the nape of her neck. He’d noticed it before, but now the light caught it just right, raising the image engraved into the wide spine: a maiden sitting on the back of a bull.
His heart stuttered in his chest, then started pounding like a fuller’s stock, so loud he barely heard her say,
“You must come back.”
Of course he must. He swallowed hard, trying to find his voice. “I will. As soon as I am able.”
“I have heard that promise before.” She balled her fists on her hips and faced him like a stubborn alewife. “What surety do I have that you tell the truth this time, so that I may attend my mother’s labors without worrying that another five years will pass before I see you?”
“None but my word, but I give it freely. I will be back.”
“When?”
He quickly calculated how much time it would take to do what needed to be done and get back to her, then held up a finger. “One week.”
“And you swear it?”
“Of a certs, my lady. How can I not, when it is Providence?”
She gave him a smile so brilliant he felt its warmth in the pit of his stomach. “I believe you will,” she said quietly, then whirled and hurried off after her mother.
Gunnar watched, bemused, until she vanished with the others down a passageway, then carried his cup of wine over to the hearth. The men already there made way for him, shuffling back to let him pass, to give him the best seat, to defer to him. Not good, whispered the part of him that demanded to stay hidden, but any chance of that had vanished. Consoling himself with the thought that most of those present were there for the tourney and would scatter before he returned, he took the offered seat, stretched his feet toward the fire, and settled in for an evening’s company.
Only later, when the hall was dark and rattling with snores, did he have the peace he needed to try to wrap his mind around what had happened.
Of all the places he might have chosen to lay his head this night, he had been drawn here, to her. And of all the favors he could have chosen, he’d been drawn to her glove. It had beckoned him from the first, and even when he failed to find it, fortune conspired to put it into his hands. He’d been led to her in spite of himself.
He’d suspected it from the moment he’d realized who she was, but hadn’t dared hope it was true. Now, he had no doubt,
“You said leapt, my lady. I said fell, even then.”
“How strange you so easily recall what you said when you struggled to recall me,” she said tartly, shrugging off her father’s hands. “I say we could not have fallen. I had barely a bruise.”
“You told me that night that you ached, my lady,” reminded Gunnar, laughing himself now. “And I know I did.”
“Whatever aches you felt, they were surely less than the sting of your burns. Your very shirt was—”
“Aaah.”
“Almost burned off y—” The groan carried Lady Eleanor to her feet mid-word. “ Madame ?”
“Joan?” Lord Ralph hurried back to kneel at his wife’s side. They exchanged a few hushed words, and then he rose to scold her. “You should have told me, instead of trying to outlast both mêlée and meal. And I should have noticed. It isn’t as though I haven’t seen this before. Mary, Eleanor, the rest of you. Come, it is time. Someone fetch the midwife.”
A page dashed toward the door, and Eleanor started toward her mother. She’d gone only a few steps when she stopped and turned back. “Forgive me, Sir Gunnar, but I am needed. You will still be here on the morrow, I hope.”
Yes, he wanted to say, but it wasn’t possible. He needed to see to Jafri’s safety before he could deal with anything else. “I fear not, my lady. I have business to attend, but—”
“Not again! But I have a gift for you, and I cannot give it now.” She glanced anxiously toward where her sisters and the other women surrounded her mother.
And that’s when he saw it, the silver comb that caught her braid at the nape of her neck. He’d noticed it before, but now the light caught it just right, raising the image engraved into the wide spine: a maiden sitting on the back of a bull.
His heart stuttered in his chest, then started pounding like a fuller’s stock, so loud he barely heard her say,
“You must come back.”
Of course he must. He swallowed hard, trying to find his voice. “I will. As soon as I am able.”
“I have heard that promise before.” She balled her fists on her hips and faced him like a stubborn alewife. “What surety do I have that you tell the truth this time, so that I may attend my mother’s labors without worrying that another five years will pass before I see you?”
“None but my word, but I give it freely. I will be back.”
“When?”
He quickly calculated how much time it would take to do what needed to be done and get back to her, then held up a finger. “One week.”
“And you swear it?”
“Of a certs, my lady. How can I not, when it is Providence?”
She gave him a smile so brilliant he felt its warmth in the pit of his stomach. “I believe you will,” she said quietly, then whirled and hurried off after her mother.
Gunnar watched, bemused, until she vanished with the others down a passageway, then carried his cup of wine over to the hearth. The men already there made way for him, shuffling back to let him pass, to give him the best seat, to defer to him. Not good, whispered the part of him that demanded to stay hidden, but any chance of that had vanished. Consoling himself with the thought that most of those present were there for the tourney and would scatter before he returned, he took the offered seat, stretched his feet toward the fire, and settled in for an evening’s company.
Only later, when the hall was dark and rattling with snores, did he have the peace he needed to try to wrap his mind around what had happened.
Of all the places he might have chosen to lay his head this night, he had been drawn here, to her. And of all the favors he could have chosen, he’d been drawn to her glove. It had beckoned him from the first, and even when he failed to find it, fortune conspired to put it into his hands. He’d been led to her in spite of himself.
He’d suspected it from the moment he’d realized who she was, but hadn’t dared hope it was true. Now, he had no doubt,
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